Sebastian LaCroix's Ghoul
by morgan145
Summary: Cultivating a ghoul has never been so hard, as Sebastian LaCroix finds when he attempts to recruit an Old Soul as his secret counsellor and spy. This story runs parallel to the events of VtMB. Please enjoy!
1. Prologue Spilt Blood

The alleyway was cold, and wet. Water pooled into every crevice, tinged a curious pink by blood.  
My blood.

I had been shot, once in the shoulder, and once in the abdomen, and I think they hit something vital.  
My parents… brother… dead, shot and killed for the few dollars in their wallet. Only I was left, almost made an entertainment if not for the cold and the wet.  
Salvation…. I could feel it, sense it, coming right this way.  
Or so I thought.

He came down the alleyway, a rather small man dressed all in black. A giant followed close behind him. Stopping right beside me, he crouched, his dark blond hair and pale skin picked out by the alleyway light. Clarity returned, a survival instinct, a relic of a life long past, but only for a few moments. Piercing, pale blue eyes scrutinized me from underneath thick eyebrows. Full, dark lips smiled at me within the shadows created by high cheek bones. His short cut hair was swept back from his face, except for a single lock that seemed bent on not quite joining the rest of his tresses. All in all, he was the image of the trustworthy stranger. His face would be engraved into my mind till the end of my days. He pulled me up into a sitting position against the wall, almost causing me to black out from the pain.  
Behind him stood another, a pale girl wearing white face makeup and her hair back in a pony tail. Her clothes, which were a short, pulled down skirt and a small revealing shirt, made her look like an undead cheerleader.

Now why did I just say undead?

Before I could wonder anything else, the man in front of me pulled back his sleeve, revealing an ivory wrist. Slowly he drew his black nail across his wrist, where stark red liquid immediately welled up. Oh God, I thought, please, make it stop!

I could not explain my sudden panic, because I was in no way grossed out by what he was about to do. And I knew exactly what he was going to do: he was about to have me drink his blood. This knowledge came from nowhere and somewhere, as it usually does, popping into existence from God knows where. From this knowledge I also knew that this act would save me, but I felt no comfort.  
I struggled, moving my head from side to side, mewling pitifully. Tears slid down my face, completely unbidden. He reached up with his hand, wiping my tears away, and running the back of his hand down the side of my face, all the while making soft hushing sounds. After a while though, he seemed to lose his patience, and gripped my jaw gently yet firmly so he could move his wrist into position. At this I shut my lips tight together, but he just prised them open with his thumb. Blood spilled into my mouth as his wrist pressed against my lips, and suddenly I was in ecstasy.

To say it felt like there was a party in my mouth and everybody was invited would be the understatement of the year: the blood seemed to explode with flavour, yet it was flavourless. Electrifying yet soothing, like bolts of lightning running pleasantly throughout my body. Despite myself I was sucking greedily at his wrist. Repulsive, I thought, but my body begged to differ. I wasn't the only one enjoying this, I saw out on the edges of my vision. The man had his mouth partially open, as if gasping, and his eyes were rolled back into his head. I could hear, ever so faintly, soft moaning sounds coming from his throat.  
Eventually it ended, and as his wrist drew back, I could see his cut already starting to heal. I felt so tired… I just… just needed to rest…  
The last thing that I remembered was the man flashing me a triumphant smile, revealing two very sharp fangs.

* * *

Sebastian LaCroix straightened up, carrying the girl in his arms. He could have easily had one of his lackeys bring her back to his penthouse in Ventrue Tower and save his $20,000 suit from bloodstains, but in order for this to work, he needed her unconscious self to only be aware of his aura, to imprint itself permanently into her psyche. The Blood Bond he was cultivating was going to be difficult as is, considering how much she struggled against him tonight. Yes, he thought, this Old Soul would be an asset to his court, provided he could teach her obedience, and possibly love. But that was a long shot, as he could already feel the girl's rebellious soul stirring to fight off the influence of his powerful aura.

As he thought this, the girl beside him, the Malkavian, spoke. "She is SO going to hate you when she wakes up." Sebastian sighed and nodded with some frustration. Normal people were so much easier to cultivate into to ghouls, as they usually have no knowledge of the Blood Bond and its influences. But Old Souls were different. Their memories of past lives and startling insight provided them with the tools necessary to fight the emotional attachment the Bond created, but Sebastian knew that it was at least impossible to fully sever any link created by vampire blood, and that it would eventually win her over to his side. All it would take was time. In the meantime, she would reside with him.

An hour later, they arrived at the base of his most prized accomplishment, Venture Tower. Rising over 150 stories, it dwarfed all other buildings, and was the symbol of his power. Passing through the dark granite lobby, Chunk, the virtually obese security guard, looked up with wide eyes at the girl in Sebastian's arms. "Is everything all right, sir?" he called, reaching for the phone. Without stopping, Sebastian looked him in the eyes and spoke, his voice dripping with authority. "Yes, it is, but you've already forgotten about us." Chunk's hand dropped and he went back to staring at the computer monitor as if in a trance. Damn self-important prick, the Prince of L.A. thought as the group headed towards the elevators. How the hell do people like him end up as security for his tower? The man probably couldn't even run across the lobby, let alone protect him from attack. Not that he needed to be protected, but still. He resolved to bring it up during his next board meeting.

Finally, they reached his penthouse, and as they walked through the door he turned and dismissed the Sherriff and the Malkavian for the night. A Ventrue vampire sat on the couch reading a book, and only looked up once to surreptitiously sneer at the girl in Sebastian's arms. No matter, he thought, I'll deal with her later. He walked down the hallway and into a specially made bedroom with its own bathroom. Large windows would let in plenty of sun during the day, and provided an excellent view over downtown Los Angeles. And at the touch a button, thick slabs of metal would slide into slots over the windows, effectively cutting off all sunlight so that Sebastian could come in here any time he pleased. No one but him had really been in here since the Tremere Primogen Strauss cleansed it of all other imprints left by other aura's the night before. The beds covers had been folded down, so it would be easier to tuck the girl into it. He set her down as gently as possible, and pulled the covers up to her chin. After a moment of thought, he went away and came back with a pitcher of cold water and a glass, setting it down quietly on the bedside table. The girl stirred quietly for a moment, and lay still. Sebastian paused, the leaned down and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. Anything to make this soul want him more when she woke up. He left the room and the girl to her dreams.


	2. First Meeting

Sebastian smoothed down his tie, and checked himself in the mirror one more time. He was about to go meet with the girl for the first time, and he felt that he needed to look his best. At least if he felt his best, surely that would give him the confidence to go in there and not make a total fool of himself. Unfortunately, this was a very unique situation for Sebastian. The fact of the matter was that he really had no idea what to expect from this individual. If she was merely a young woman, or a wizened old lady, he would be better able to adjust his manner to suit her maturity level. The problem was that she was both: a developing young human who still appreciated the fads of the modern day and at the same time had long outgrown them. Strauss had warned him that her maturity level might jump all over the place, and that her manner of speaking may not stay consistent. One moment she'll sound like a teenager, and the next like she came from another century, or even another millennium. Sebastian sighed. He couldn't delay this any longer. But first, one more check in the mirror. Teeth: free of any bloodstains? Check. Tie: straight and flat? Check. Suit: freshly pressed? Check. Hair: perfect? Yes, except for that damnable single lock that refused to join the rest of his tresses. But of course, there was nothing he could do about it. She would probably find it rather dashing. Or so he hoped. With yet another sigh, Sebastian turned and headed to his office to wait.  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I was dreaming.  
It began pleasantly enough: I was walking down a beautiful marble hall filled with beautiful, peaceful paintings. Some paintings were of family picnics, others of still ponds, and still more were of happy looking people at festivals and other events. Each painting was separated by what looked like solid gold edging, not unlike what one would find in a late Rennaissance mansion. The same edging filled the corners where the wall met the ceiling and the floor. As I studied these paintings, I noticed that each one was becoming more macabre than the last until every image looked like it came straight out of a horror movie. Here, the happy family was being robbed by brutal looking bandits. There, the pond was clogged with dead fish and rotting corpses. The last one was the worst of all: The people at the festival were being butchered, children running and screaming in all directions... As revulsion swept through me, something moved at the corner of my eye. I turned, looked, and froze. Thick, sanguine liquid was slowly dripping down the walls. As I watched, more and more came down, until the walls were completely red. The liquid puddled on the floor, sliding towards me like a river of gore. For of course I knew what this was. It was blood.  
I turned and ran down the hallway, fleeing the red tide. Suddenly, there was a door up ahead, all covered in strange markings. I tried to stop before I slammed into it, but there was no way to stop. Right before I hit the door, a quiet voice whispered, "Don't open it..." But the door opened anyways.  
Immediately incinerating me with an explosion of flame.

I woke up.

The first thing I noticed was that I was too hot, and immediately pulled the thick covers off of me. After a moment of breathing and trying to cool down, I realized the problem: I was still wearing the clothes from when I was in the alley. I was even still wearing my shoes. They were bloodstained and filthy, and I suddenly felt very out of place in such a beautiful room. I looked around, awed at the obvious money that was put into it. A large, colonial couch sat in front of a huge widescreen T.V. that was mounted to the wall. Beside it were what looked like two large wardrobes, again done in the colonial style, and a huge standing mirror. Off to my right was a large desk made of expensive looking dark wood, complete with what looked like the latest model of a Mac computer and a large leather office chair. In the far left corner of the room was a tall bookcase, a colonial chair, and a small table with a lamp on it, perfectly set up for leisure reading. The general architecture of the room would not have been out of place in the Palace of Versaille. The bed I was in was placed with the headboard towards and against the wall in the centre of the room and could easily fit four people. I winced as i noticed all the dirt and grime on my clothes had created a silhouette of my body on the milk colored sheets. I frowned, perplexed. Where the hell am I?

I looked out the tall windows that lined the wall where the bed was and the one to my right. It was still night out. I glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. It read 12:30. After a moment I noticed a hand written note on the bedside table, and turned on the lamp next to the bed to read it.

Greetings.  
There are new clothes for you in the wardrobes, and the door on the left  
wall leads to a bathroom where you may wash. Place all of your old  
clothes in the waste basket on the far wall, as they are obviously beyond  
all repair. There will be a hot plate of food waiting for you in the kitchen on  
the first door on the left when you leave. There will be a man in there by  
the name of Mercurio, who's company I believe you will prefer much better  
to eating alone. When you are finished, you and I will talk. I look forward  
to meeting you.

Sebastian LaCroix

I reeled at the name. THE LaCroix? Multi-billionaire and CEO of the LaCroix Foundation? I couldn't believe it. My father worked for the Canadian Branch of LaCroix Foundation, before...  
A shudder of emotion rippled through me. My parents were dead. My brother was dead. I was alone.  
Tears slid down my face, and I spent a half hour sobbing uncontrollably. How I managed to cry out so much pain in so little time astounded me afterwards, but I suppose it was yet another instinct that came out of nowhere. An instinct to move on, to keep going. After I had calmed down, I peeled off my filthy clothes and threw them out, then headed to the bathroom. Like the bedroom it was opulent, all marble and gold. It was strange, however, because the bathroom was fully stocked with expensive feminine products but appeared to have never been used. Maybe there was a Mrs. LaCroix? But that couldn't be it, because there was no male products of any kind, only female, and it made no sense that they wouldn't share the same room or bathroom.

I showered, washing off all the dirt and blood that seemed stained into my skin. As I did so, I wondered about Mr. LaCroix. I had heard he was young, not much older than my eighteen years. I had also heard that he was very good looking. I felt a slight blush spread across my cheeks, suddenly feeling very shy. I couldn't even begin to think of how I was going to thank him for his hospitality. And what was I going to do, now that my family is gone? After all of this I couldn't possibly ask him for a job; I was barely out of highschool, with no professional diploma or anything. I want to go into photography when I am older, so I suppose I could ask to go into marketing if I ever worked up the courage to ask, which I doubted greatly. After that I thought about last night... Was it last night? I had no way of telling, and my usually very sharp memory was fuzzy. I thought about the blonde stranger. Was that LaCroix? What was that he gave me? Some sort of medicine that speeds up tissue repair? I was so sure that I had been mortally wounded, but here I was, alive and kicking. In fact, I was feeling better than ever before. I shut off the water, deciding that I would find out later. Now to get dressed and get some food.

When I opened the first large wardrobe, I expected to find a set of some generic teenager clothes sitting in a nice pile on the shelf, like a camisole, an overshirt, jeans, underclothes, and a pair of sneakers. What I did find nearly knocked me off my feet. It was the wardrobe of the spoilt rich kid. All the sort of clothing that I would wear to the mall was in there, except it was upgraded: overshirts of great quality cut and cloth, casual jackets with designer labels, snug pants that looked like they would fit like a second skin, sneakers and short heels that on close inspection revealed custom labels. Even the socks, both black and white, felt like silk. With shaking hands I opened the other wardrobe, and had to sit down, absolutely astounded. This one was filled with much nicer clothes, all silk shirts, jackets, and crisp business pants, the sort of stuff you would wear to an important occasion like a wedding or fancy party. There was no way this could be all meant for me, I wasn't important to him. He didn't even know me! But the note had said 'wardrobes', with an 's' at the end. I finally came to the conclusion that maybe LaCroix felt sorry for me and decided that he needed to shower me with opulent gifts. It still took me a good ten minutes to gather up my courage and begin to dress. I decided to wear a mix of clothes from both wardrobes, as I didn't want to risk a bout of bad luck while eating and ruin what looked like thousands of dollars of clothing in one fell swoop. I finished dressing and checked out the person staring out at me from in the mirror.

She was about 5' 2", gifted with the envied hourglass body shape. A deep blue silk shirt and tight fitting black pants covered her body, with short heels on her feet. Long, layered rich brown hair That was parted above her right eyebrow fell about her shoulders and halfway down her back, allowing for her pale heartshaped face to stand out. Her small lips were set in a neutral position. Below her full lower lip was a strong chin, and above her thin upper lip was a slim, "perfect" nose. Somewhat thick eyebrows curved gracefully over deep set small almond shaped eyes. But it was the eyes themselves that caught your attention: An dark undecided mix of blue, grey, and green, they were the eyes of old women. Deep and wise, they were completely at odds with the youth of their owner. With a heavy sigh, the girl in the mirror headed for her dinner.

Thanks to the instructions, I had little trouble finding the small but nice looking kitchen. A table was set against the wall, and in one of the two chairs sat a man. He didn't look much older than thirty, but he had a friendly air to him that made me relax instantly. "Are you Mercurio?" I asked, still a little shy. "Yea, yea, come sit down before your dinner gets cold." he replied. Mercurio's tone was friendly, and his voice had a faint New York accent to it. He somehow reminded me of the american gangsters of the 1920's. Maybe it was the loose but good quality clothing, or the fact that the mischievious light in his eyes also held a certain level of maturity. It also could have been the neck length brown hair and the slight stubble of a beard. I sat down and dug into my food with gusto. As I practically vacuumed up the amazingly good fettucine alfredo, Mercurio began to ask questions.

"So, uh, whats yer name?"  
"Alice Kepler."  
"Where are ya from?"  
"Toronto."  
"How old are you?"  
"Take a guess." My eyes always threw people off.  
Mecurio studied me for a moment.  
"25? 26?"  
"I'm 18, actually."  
He looked surprised.  
"No kidding..." he said thoughtfully. By now I was finished with my meal and sitting up straight in my chair. Mercurio eyed my empty plate with slight admiration. "So, you ready to meet Mr. LaCroix?" he asked, clearing away my plate. No! My mind shrieked. "Yes." my mouth said. He nodded, a sympathetic look on my face like he knew my true answer. "Alright missy, right this way." he said, moving towards the door. It was then it occured to me. "Wait!" I called, looking at the clock. It was now close to 2 o'clock in the morning. "Shouldn't he be asleep by now?" How would he know when I was awake? Mercurio looked at me with an odd glint in his eyes. "Mr. LaCroix, he's uh, he's a bit a night owl, you'll find."

"Good evening." said the handsome blonde man behind the small, shiny oak desk. He had a pleasant voice, one that was rather high pitched but still held a masculine edge. Easy to listen to. I felt myself squirming internally under the gaze of his pale blue eyes. He extended a hand, which I shook like my father taught me. "Mr. LaCroix?" I asked. I was surprised at how young he was: he couldn't have been more than 24 or 25 years old. He was even more beautiful, now that I saw him in better light, bringing out the poet in me. His hair was a dark gold, contrasted against his ivory white skin. He had a slim frame, with somewhat broad shoulders. He was taller than I thought, standing at least half a head over me. High cheekbones and a strong, square jaw complimented his fleshy, sensuous mouth. My voice managed to sound confident and professional, but in reality I was trying not to hyperventilate. I rarely ever dealt with such good looking males. "Yes, and you must be Ms. Kepler. Please, sit." His manner was friendly, but layered with professionalism. He reminded of one of the nobles from of the movie "Pride and Prejudice". As I sat down in the extremely comfortable leather chair, I took a moment to get over the utter opulence of LaCroix's office. Like the bedroom, it would not have looked out of place in Versaille. Its size was astounding, dwarfing everything in the room. The far end of the room where we sat was raised slightly, which I found interesting and yet oddly familiar.

As soon as I was settled, he began to talk.

"Ms. Kepler, I am truly sorry for your loss. To lose so much all at once is... beyond words. However, it was no accident that I found you in that alley when I did." I frowned, suspicious. What that hell was that supposed to mean? "Well, I am very thankful that you did find me, Mr. LaCroix." I spoke carefully without really knowing why. It just seemed like a good idea at the time. "What is it that you gave me, sir? I was so sure I was dying... was it some sort of, uh, tissue repair accelerant?" LaCroix raised an eyebrow, looking amused. I shut my mouth before I said anything else as weird. It happened like that, sometimes. Incredibly high grade vocabulary tumbled out of my mouth without any regard as to who I was speaking to. After a moment, he said, "Ms. Kepler, what do you know about the supernatural?" I squirmed, outwardly this time. I was in love with the paranormal, though I generally kept it a secret as it usually only got me weird looks. "Um, well..." I muttered, trying to come up with a suitable half truth that sounded both knowledgeable and dismissive at the same time. What was he trying to tell me, that he fed me some magic potion? The next question made me snap to attention.

"Do you believe in monsters?"

I stared.

He smiled, a brilliant smile that revealed two sharp fangs.

* * *

morgan145: Hey guys, so sorry this took so long! Thank you so much if you've been interested enough to keep coming back again and again and again, looking for the next chapter! I promise I won't take so long with chapter 3.

Update: UG! Sorry guys, this chapter didn't come out the way I wanted. I'll improve, I promise! I just don't think that Sebastian is quite into character as I would like. If you have any pointers, please feel free to let me know!


	3. The Prince of LA

My heart slammed around in my chest, and I suddenly found I couldn't breathe. LaCroix's teeth were all I could see, like my eyes developed a zoom feature. The world went black.

When I woke up, I was lying on one of the red leather couches in Mr. LaCroix's office. The man (man?) himself was sitting in a matching leather chair holding a black wine glass. He made a swirling motion, and dark liquid sloshed inside. He was staring pensively into the fire that was roaring in the fireplace next to us. It took me a second to realized that I must have fainted. My mind was desperately trying to block out the memory of LaCroix's teeth, the fact that he had me drink its blood, that it saved me, to find a way to fit it into everything that I knew. I came pretty close to doing so couple of times: a trick of the light could have made his teeth look much longer, or maybe he has some sort of dental problem. And feeding me medicine, that could easily look like he had me drink his blood from my angle. But I knew better than to keep denying the truth. Vampires exist. I admit, (and this doesn't happen often,) my mind was officially blown. I sat up slowly, a little nervous, though I suppose that is the natural emotion one feels when sitting next to your predator.

"Ah, your awake." LaCroix said. "I must apologise for earlier, making you faint... that was appalling. I should have broken you in more gently. The World of Darkness is not usually something one can take in in a stride." "Um, its alright." I muttered, not really knowing how to react to this sudden apology. "May I offer you a drink? Some wine, perhaps?" he continued, seeming to want to make up for his actions. "Uh, sure. I mean, yes, please." my voice was almost non existant. As he was getting my drink from a nearby wine cart, I quietly swallowed and worked to calm down my heart which insisted on rapidly pounding in my chest. When LaCroix's back was turned, my hand quickly went to my neck, checking for any tell tale puncture wounds. As I did this, he said "I did not feed on you, if thats what your concerned about." His remark startled me, as his back was still turned. "H-how did you know?" I stammered. So much for trying to calm down. "I can hear your heart beat all the way from here. And, I could see your reflection on the bottle." LaCroix returned, holding out my drink which I gratefully took. My fingers brushed his, and I had to fight the urge to recoil: His hand was very cold. Like a corpse. I was amazed that I didn't notice it before when I shook his hand. I guess I just didn't think much about it at the time. When he sat down, he looked at me, his pale blue eyes steadily holding my own. "Ms. Kepler, I know what I did was... innappropriate, but please understand: you have nothing to fear from me. You never have, nor ever will. You will be always safe with me." He was completely sincere about this, and I believed him. But my fear remained.

"Um... is that...?" I indicated his glass. He glanced down at it, took a small mouthfull, and appeared to move the liquid over his tongue looking for all the world like someone who was tasting a fine whine. At last he swallowed, and held his glass in front of him like he was inspecting it. "Type O-, lightly warmed, and with an interestingly sweet aftertaste. It was drawn out of one my high executives just this evening." He looked at me, his piercing gaze gauging my reaction. "Yes, this is blood I am drinking." Blood. Human blood. "I suppose that someone like you would be into the finer stuff." I joked. Instead of being amused, LaCroix only looked intrigued.

"It is interesting that you say that." he said, looking thoughtful. "The vampires of this world come from 13 different clans. Each clan is a bloodline, and its members all share unique characteristics." He paused. "My clan is Ventrue. From time out of mind, it has been the clan of leadership. We work to enforce order and shape the fate of the Kindred." LaCroix seemed to sigh. "It is a burden we all share." "Kindred?" "The vampire word for other vampires, either as a whole or an individual. 'Kine' refers to humans." he turned his eyes to me. "As Ventrue, I have a more refined taste for blood than any of the other clans. So much more refined, in fact, that if I was, lets say, to drink from a homeless person, I risk my body rejecting it." "So you can only safely drink the blood of a healthy person?" "That is correct."

As I drank some of the wine, I began to relax, bit by bit. "Do all Ventrue rule the other vampires?" I asked after the silence stretched on. "No, but most high positions within the Camarilla are taken by Ventrue." he answered. I heard of note of pride in his voice, which I found interesting. "What's the Camarilla?" the very name brought to mind the image of nobles at a ball, cultured aristocrats in beautiful dresses and suits. "The Camarilla is the dominate sect of the vampire world. Its main focus is to maintain the Masquerade... and punish any who would dare threaten it." "Then it's sort of a vampire government?" "In a way, yes. We keep the traditions of our society, and also enforce its laws." "What kind of laws?" "Nothing complex, just rules that help clarify what puts the Masquerade at risk, such as feeding out in the open, showing unneccessary feats of unusual strength, or speed, or revealing any aspects of the supernatural to humans."

"So who are the people that enforce these laws?" "People such as me. I am what is called a Prince, a vampire who, through the Camarilla, has claimed domain over an entire city, which in this case is Los Angles. I oversee the activities of each clan within the city, select the Primogen - Primogen being the representatives of each clan within the city - and on occasion must personally deal with those who would threaten the Masquerade." The way he said this implied he was trying to impress. Suddenly the office seemed to make more sense. The architecture, the furniture set up, even the carpet, seemed to be made so that the eye was drawn to LaCroix. The raised section... the desk was probably pushed to the edge, so that it would be made clear to anyone in the room who was the superior, and who was the subordinate.

"Why have you all been hiding all this time? And how? Someone must have noticed something by now." "If humans were openly aware of our existence, they would hunt us to extinction. They would not be able to cope with the fact that they are not, and never were, at the top of the food chain." He seemed a little surprised, like a teacher who's prized student had just asked an extremely stupid question. Which completely fit the situation. Of course humans wouldn't tolerate vampires in their midst. Widespread panic would erupt if people learned that they are constantly hunted by the creatures of the night. LaCroix continued. "As to how, vampires and other creatures of the World of Darkness have been hiding behind what is commonly known as the Masquerade." He opened his mouth to explain further, but stopped when I nodded with understanding. For what was a masquerade? People dressing up and pretending to be something their not, wearing masks to hide their true nature.

His expression softened, even looked pleased, like the student had just redeemed themselves. And somehow, the fact that he was pleased made me happy as well. "Keep our secret a secret, or you will be hunted down, like a wild animal, by both Kindred and Hunters." "So humans do know about you?" "Yes, and fear us. They continue to wage their never-ending war against us and everything we are, all to appease their God and insure them a cushy spot in Heaven. Hmph." That last sound came out sounding slightly amused. "Their fear has turned into hate?" I remarked thoughtfully, but internally I gave myself a little kick. I had to be more careful with the way I spoke: like the high grade vocabulary, deep, poetic verse spilled out of my mouth from time to time if I wasn't careful. It wasn't a terrible thing, its just that I hated recieving the odd looks and awkward "okay..." that may or may not follow. The vampire continued. "Indeed it has, but do not be fooled: the Hunter's religious zealotry only serves as an outlet for their love of killing."

"So... What can you do? Can you go out into the sun at all?" "No. Fire also does a lot more damage to me than it would a human. I am stronger and faster than any human, and can see better in the dark. Bullets do very little damage to me, unless I get hit by a shotgun or a chaingun. However, I suffer almost as much as a human if I am attacked with a blade." "Why is that?" "My dear," (my heart fluttered at this) "As a vampire, I am clinicly dead. My vital organs are, well, no longer vital. So if I was shot in the heart, or even in the head... well, it wouldn't matter like it would to a human. A blade, however, causes much more widespread damage" Ah. So it's not where they take damage, but how much. Interesting, I thought. "And what if your staked?" "It would just paralyze me, and only if it caught me in the heart." "Can you hypnotized people?" At this he chuckled. It was a charming sound.

"As Ventrue, yes, I can indeed 'hypnotize' humans and many weak willed vampires. It is one of the unique abilities of my clan, to be able to lace power into my voice and cause others to bend to my will. I can also cast this ability on others at a distance, but with less precise results." I pondered this for a moment. Was it possible that he ever used this ability to further expand his corporate empire? "Do you have any other abilities?" "Yes, but, lets save that for another time. I would like to know a bit about you, if thats alright." I couldn't help it: I blushed like a fool. "What would you like to know, sir?" I asked in a desperate effort to hide my reaction.

"Well, I was wondering what you and your family were doing in L.A. I was informed that your father worked for the Canadian Branch of my company. Were you, perhaps, on vacation?" "Yeah, I mean, yes, sir." I swallowed. Every mention of my loss brought a twinge of pain to my chest. "Sir," I began, unsure if it was appropriate to ask. "Are my questions making you uncomfortable?" LaCroix said, looking very concerned. "Uh, well, no... I mean..." I gathered up my courage. "Mr. LaCroix, I really wish for my family to have a proper funeral." I covered my eyes with my hand, embarrased and emotional. "If... if it's not too much to ask..." I couldn't finish. Surprisingly, I didn't have to. I could feel something cool on my arm, and when I looked up LaCroix had put his hand on my arm in a comforting manner, and his ice blue eyes, so full of understanding, stared into mine. "It's alright," he said gently, "It's all been taken care of." "Thank you..." I whispered, unable to say any more. A few more moments passed, then I felt a gentle squeeze on my arm and the coolness disappeared.

"I drank your blood... does that make me anything?" I asked, after a while, a little shy. I didn't want to sound like some sort of wannabe. "Yes, the term for you is 'ghoul'. You will find that you are stronger, faster, heal quickly, and will not age. That is, as long as you keep drinking my blood." "Will any vampire blood do?" "Well, certainly, however it is... easier, if you stick to my own. Indeed, you will find any other blood less appealing." "Wait," I said, "You want me to stay?" "I don't see why not. Indeed, Ms. Kepler, I find you a most intriguing individual. Unless of course you want to go..." "No!" I assured him. "I would love to stay." "Very well." He almost looked relieved. Suddenly I found myself yawning, and glanced at the clock above the mantle. It read five thirty in the morning. LaCroix also seemed to notice the late hour, as he stood up and said "Well, my young ghoul, it is probably best that we head off-"

The double doors burst open, starteling us both, and in walked a young man and a woman who looked very agitated.

They were both young, about 19 or 20, I suppose. The man reminded me of LaCroix, with his air of regalty and calculating eyes. They even looked somewhat the same, with only a few differences: the stranger's short blonde hair was lightly gelled, his eyes were a pale light green, his frame was a bit broader than LaCroix's, and the angles of his face weren't so sharp. The girl, I was surprised to find, was the same one from the alley. She even wore the same clothes, a white mini skirt and a knotted blouse. Both faces looked worried. "Prince LaCroix," the man said, "I hate to interrupt, but I'm afraid we have a situation. The Sabbat-" LaCroix held up an imperious hand, silencing the man. "Who has the full details of this matter?" snapped LaCroix. "The Sheriff does, but-" "Then I shall speak with him to it at once." He took a deep breath. "While I'm gone, I'd like you both to become aquainted with my new ghoul, Ms. Alice Kepler." He indicated the blonde man. "Ms. Alice, this is Matthew Baily, a Ventrue like myself." Matthew smiled and extended a hand, which I shook. I began to say something polite and formal, but the vampire stopped me. "Please, call me Matthew." he said, and so I did. His voice was deep and warm. Unlike LaCroix, who's kindness was thickly layered with proffessionalism, Matthew seemed to be openly friendly. There was something about him that, like Mercurio, put me at ease. The girl, however...

"...And this young woman here is only known as the Malkavian, which is the name of her clan." She smiled at me, looking like a shy little girl who was meeting a stranger, literally. Her head was down and to the side, and she looked up at me with her different colored eyes. The one on her right was a sky blue, while the other was a deep gold. They were interesting, yet unnerving. She hunched her shoulders forward as if to gaurd against a cold gust of wind and held out a limp hand. As soon as I shook it, her hand fell back to her side so fast I wondered if she found me somehow unpleasant.

"Well then, I must be off." LaCroix said with a sigh. He turned to me. "Ms. Kepler, I trust that you will be alright without me?" I nodded and said yes, I will. "Then I bid you good night, and welcome." his farewell finished, LaCroix turned and disappeared through the double doors of his office, leaving me alone with two strangers. After a few moments, Matthew gestured to the doors. "I think we ought to move to a less... exposed room." he suggested, glancing almost nervously out the window. I noticed that the horizon outside was no longer the dull orange glow of city lights, but was also becoming grey. I agreed, and we left LaCroix's office in search of a more appropriate sitting room.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was amusing, Sebastian thought, how her pulse, once quieted from fear, seemed to race as soon as he showed any good sentiment to her. But such was the nature of a ghoul. He had to admit, she was quite pleasant to deal with so far; not gushing or trying far too hard to glean favour from him, unlike some ghouls he'd seen. If he was careful, this cultivation would be easier than he thought.

As Sebastian exited his office, he was going over and over his first real encounter with the Old Soul. To be honest, he really didn't think that she would faint like that, and he couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of guilt for giving her such scare. Then again, Old Souls were generally better able to take such shocking information because, well, in a way they've almost seen everything, having lived so many lifetimes. And it was truly a shame that her family had died. He had planned to make a corporate visit to her fathers work place, to have it arranged so that he would be able to meet her in public. That way, later he would be more justified in approaching her father and saying that his daughter interested him, and that he wished to hire her and bring her to Los Angeles. There she would be slowly eased into the secret world of vampires, werewolves, and the supernatural. Unfortunately, circumstances change, and plans with it.

But she had proved herself to him: her surprising maturity, her intelligence, choice of words, the way she seemed to already pick up on concepts, as if she just knew...

Yes, the Old Soul's wisdom and insight would prove to be a major asset to him.

As his Sheriff reported the incident to him, a Sabbat raid that had resulted in the final death of one of the city's Primogen, Sebastian found the ideal oportunity to put his new unwitting counsellor to the real test. In a week or so he would hold court, bringing together all the candidates to replace the missing Primogen, and many other vampires as well. There he would set her loose, to meet the replacements, to spy among their ghouls, and at the end of the night he would seek her opinion on each candidate, and learn any information there is to know on the other vampires. Of course, he could figure out the who was worthy to become Primogen easily enough himself, and Mercurio did a fine enough job of gathering information on his own. But Sebastian wanted to test this Old Soul's ability, see what skills may resurface in the face of "familiar" situations. As dawn approached, the Prince headed for his chambers to think over his first meeting.  
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morgan145: hello everyone. Sorry this took a while, I had a terrible time of thinking and rethinking of how I was going to do this. I tried not to put in too much info for this one chapter, and the next chapter is just going to be finishing up on the basic information and then really getting into the story (not that this isn't really into the story, but I think you all have an idea of what I mean). I know that this is a fanfiction site, and that people who read this generally already know all about VTMB, but I felt that things should be explained in part for any people new to this. I hope I did a good job, I really haven't done an explanation piece before. I tried to make it as least boring as possible. I also tried to give readers a sense of how the characters feel about things within the story. I hope you all enjoy!

Update: still trying to tweak this... some small but definite changes made.

Update #2: Switched some things around, improved Matthews description quite a bit. Reviews are welcome!


	4. A Meeting of Many Minds

I was headed to the kitchen, walking along expensive paneled halls of marble and oak and doing my best to follow Matthew's directions exactly. After we (the vampires and I) had found a nice windowless sitting room, my stomach gave a loud rumble and I was given the perfect excuse to be alone. God knows I needed it. It is quite unnerving to know that the individuals beside you see you as a meal more than a conversationalist. I found the kitchen, entered it, and breathed in.

All the scents of spices, herbs, breads, fruits, meats, everything, flooded my nose, and for a moment I stood there, savouring the sensation. It was like a subtle perfume, not too strong, but noticeable. I don't know how I didn t notice this before when I was in here. I suppose I was still in a sort of daze at that point. I opened my eyes, and found Mercurio and his dark blue eyes studying me. He was leaning against a counter, finishing a sandwich. I sniffed once, twice: cold ham, fresh lettuce, and tomato all caught between two slices of whole grain bread. Mercurio gave me a knowing wink. "Pretty cool, huh? Your senses are a bit sharper, you're stronger and faster, and you don't age." He said between mouthfuls."Then I guess that I can safely assume that you're a ghoul?" I said, a little surprised. "Yup. And that makes us partners. Welcome to the family."

I searched around for something to eat. After sniffing around and opening some cupboards, I located a treasure trove of semi-junk food in a tall cupboard: low calorie popcorn, rice crackers, sugar free jello, baked chips, the works. I was having a craving for popcorn, but it was up about a half a foot out of reach. I bent my knees a bit, and jumped. And soared past the popcorn. I managed to grab the side of the door before my head hit the roof. I stared, unable to believe that I had just managed to jump four feet up into the air with relatively little effort. Mercurio looked at me and raised an eyebrow, which I felt was a little insensitive at the time.

"Told ya you're stronger." he said, looking somewhat amused. "Thats why you gotta be a bit more careful, ya know." After a moment, I managed to pry my fingers off the wood and drop to the ground. I looked around, and realized that my eyesight had improved; I could more easily read the small print on a can on the other side of the kitchen. Intense feelings of shock and amazement went through me. I had brought the wineglass from LaCroix's office with me, and now I took that glass and swallowed what remained of the wine. I'm not an alcoholic, I've been dealing with my emotions without that sort of help for eighteen years, but I wanted to see just how strong my sense of taste was now. As the drink washed over my tongue, I went rigid with amazement. I had thought before that the wine was just strong, but as I paid attention I could seperate each flavour as it flooded into my mouth: the grapes, the alcohol, the artificial flavouring...

CRUNCH!

Searing pain went through my hand, and when I opened my eyes, I saw that I had shattered the glass with what I felt was only a small bit of pressure. Transparent shards cut into my palm and fingers. "Oops." I whispered, shocked by my own strength. "Ah, its alright, let me just get the first aid kit." Mercurio said, hurrying to a white box set into the wall. I stared at my hand, the blood dripping onto the white tile of the floor like a dread rain. What glass was still embeded in my hand felt extra sharp somehow, digging into the muscle, making this experiance even more painful. I also felt the most curious sensation, a sort of itching in my wounds. As I watched, I noticed the glass moving minutely out of my hand, like it was being pushed. I told this to Mercurio, who had come back with the some bandages and gauze. He smirked. "Yea, thats your healing abilities kicking in, kiddo. This should be all cleared up in a few hours, but I'd best patch it up to stop the bleeding."

It was then that Matthew and the Malkavian came into the kitchen. "Jeez, how long does it take for-" The vampire stopped, his gaze locking on to my hand. I looked at him with warily, unsure of what he would do. After a moment he gave himself a shake, offering an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I can usually can keep my gauking down to a minimum. Don't worry, I've already fed tonight." Mercurio finished bandaging my hand and started cleaning my blood off the floor. I bent to help, but he waved me away. "Best not to keep the vamps waiting, kid." He said not unkindly. I hurriedly grabbed a bag of popcorn and heated it up in the microwave, and as soon as it was finished the Ventrue, the Malkavian, and myself headed back to the sitting room.

I sat down in one of the large, overstuffed black leather chairs and opened the back of popcorn. Steam spewed out, and with my uninjured hand I scooped out a handful and almost stuffed in my mouth. At the last moment, I remembered I wasn't at a casual occasion, and instead placed the delicious food in my mouth piece by piece. I could taste the salt and the dusting of artificial butter, and the soft texture of the popcorn on my tongue felt amazing. Matthew, seated on a matching leather couch adjacent to me, raised a fair eyebrow. The Malkavian was also seated on a couch, perched on the edge and picking at the edge with black nail, humming to herself. "So... how do you know LaCroix? Did he make you?" I asked Matthew, wanting to break the silence. The vampire snorted. "No, he found me and my sister after our Sire was killed. And to be turned into a vampire is called the Embrace. Sire... the maker of the vampire..."These days, Jane and I run errands for the Prince, along with the Malkavian and the others. You'll probably meet them all later." I looked at the Malkavian, who had stopped picking and humming and was now staring straight ahead at the wall. Without warning, she spoke.

_**"The old one has pretty hair."**_

Her voice was eerie and girlish, a softness to it that cut through any other sound like a knife. She turned her head a little bit towards me, and I could see that she was looking at me out of the corners of her eyes. Matthew gave a nervous chuckle, and I could see that he was about to say something, when she spoke again.

_**"...And pretty lips, and pretty teeth. But convoluted and twisted is your long, long past, the dark voices tell me."**_

I was too shocked for words. Matthew started to sputter something, but again the Malkavian cut him off.

_**"I'm Stacey. No one else knows this, Little Widow, so make sure to hide it well in your web. We shall make great friends, you and I."**_

She looked at me earnestly, looking like she was about to burst from happiness, and it took me a moment to realize that she really meant this. That we would be great friends. The Malkavian then glanced at Matthew, saying:

_**"My name is beyond recall in your brain's wrinkles."**_

It was odd; was there a double timbre in her voice? The other vampire appeared to be in a daze for a moment, then seemed to wake up. "Maybe we should head off to bed. Here, I'll escort you back to your room, Ms. Kepler." Matthew spoke as if nothing had happened, which gave me the idea that maybe he just got mind-wiped or something. The Malkavian went the other way down the hall from the sitting rooms, but right before we turned the corner, I glanced back down the hall to find the the girl staring back at me in her eerie way. Matthew seemed to notice. "Malkavians..." He sighed. "Their an interesting clan. I hope she didn't creep you out too much. Their often labeled lunatics because their blood makes them crazy, but it's always worth the effort sorting out the wisdom from the bull. They have this thing called insight, which grants them special knowledge about pretty much everything. She and her brother might walk up to a stranger and greet them by name, even thought they have no way of knowing it before hand." My eyes widened, both out of wonder for her abilities, and... "She has a brother?" "Yup, a creepy bastard, if you'll pardon my language. A bit a sadist, and just down right wierd, even for a Malkavian."

"What do you mean by 'brother' and 'sister'? Were you related before the Embrace?" I had a disntinct feeling that this wasn't the case, and I was right. "Jane and I weren't even aware of our existence until after the Embrace. I think its the same with the Malkavian and her brother Joelle. No, what I mean by brother and sister is that we were both Embraced by the same Sire."

We finally arrived at my room. It took us a good 5 minutes to navigate LaCroix's penthouse from the sitting room to my bedroom. It felt strange, thinking of anything so fancy as mine. I suppose it was then it really hit me, as I said my farewells and entered my room, that I would be staying here in Venture Tower, immersed in the supernatural world of vampires and who knows what else, at the side of a powerful vampire leader. As I found a beautiful set of silk fuscia pajama's and changed, I felt small, wild shivers of strange excitement run through my body. Before I shut the heavy drapes on the tall windows, I picked up LaCroix's note and sat on the now clean bed, studying it. His handwriting was strong and confident looking, if that makes any sense. It was like a mix between printing and caligraphy. I wondered briefly how old he must really be to have that sort of writing; you certainly couldn't learn to write like that in this day and age, unless you went to a caligraphy class. A huge yawn cracked my jaw, and so I twitched the drapes shut, crawled into the tall bed, and promptly fell asleep.  
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morgan145: Hello all, just a short chapter this time. This may be the only chapter in which there isn't a section from someone else's point of view, whether it's LaCroix's or someone else. I really hope you enjoy, remember, all reviews are welcome (except flamers, though. Obviously. ;D )


	5. Getting Settled

When I woke up next, I thought that I was still in a dream. Instead of the three star hotel room my parents had rented for our trip to L.A., I was still in the opulent room in Venture tower. Instead of hearing my father's loud snoring, or my mother's soft breathing, or even my brother babbling quietly in his sleep, there was only silence. Then I remembered. I drew in a shaky breath, ready to cry again. But I couldn't cry. Not until the funeral, at least, and only then. There I would cry out all the rest of my sorrow, until I was empty of it. Until that day and afterwards, I had to find a way to move on, to separate all the sadness from the good memories until all the pain was burned away and there was nothing left but warm thoughts. The next breath I drew was steady, and the world became clear again as the tears went away. After a moment, I sat up, and looked around at the room. _My_ room...

I began to see it again with new eyes. I got up out of the king size bed and pulled open the drapes. Golden Californian sunlight streamed in, blinding me for a moment. When I could see again, I wandered around the room, oblivious to the cold polished wooden floor at my feet. I traced my fingers along the smooth dark-wood desk, fingered the spines of the books in their shelves, picked through the clothes in the wardrobes, and finally settled on the extremely comfortable colonial couch. Staring at the blank T.V., I allowed for the feeling that had been following me the whole time to sink in: _It was all mine..._

A shiver of excitement went up my spine.

Of course, it all really belonged to LaCroix, considering that he owned the tower and all. But it was still nice to believe that this was my own sanctuary, my own place to be. After a moment of basking in this new feeling of ownership, I had the urge to check my email. I got up, and finally realized that the floor was quite cold. I quickly walked to the wardrobes and searched around for some slippers, but found none. I turned around, searching with my ghoul vision. At home, it would have taken me a while to find anything, as my room always was in a state of perpetual disaster. But with this room, I resolved to do my best to keep it neat and tidy. It was just too nice a place to be messy. I went to hang up a fallen shirt, but my injured hand made it difficult.

I looked at my wrapped up hand, spotted red where I had bled through. _"This should be all cleared up in a few hours..."_ Mercurio had said. The digital clock read two o'clock in the afternoon. My hand no longer hurt when I moved it... could it be that I was healed already? There was only one way to find out. Slowly, carefully, I removed the gauze. When my hand came free, I stared in wonder. White lines, like the palest of scars, where scattered around my palm and fingers. Soon, these too would fade, leaving no trace of my accident.

My cold feet reminded me of my task. I looked around for some slippers, and sighed in exasperation as I discovered that they were right beside the bed. I hop-stepped across the distance and slipped on the warm, silky black footwear, then went over to the Mac. As I waited for the computer to load, I started to wonder what would happen today. Perhaps I would hang out with Mercurio. I thought about what happened in the kitchen last night/this morning. I would have to find some way to quickly acclimatize to my new strength. Mercurio would probably help me with that if I asked. I didn't want to embarass myself like that in front of Mr. LaCroix.

LaCroix... An interesting individual... Would I see him today? Probably not, considering that he was very busy man. But I could not help having a small spark of hope that I would.

Realizing that the computer had booted up I went to use it, only to find that I needed a password. I sighed inwardly at my silliness. Of course there would be a password. Suddenly something started buzzing in the right hand upper drawer. I pulled it open to find a cell phone and a blackberry on top of several envelopes. The phone vibrated for another second, then stopped. I picked it up and clicked a button. The screen lit up, revealing a black box that informed me that I had had 3 new messages. It took me a couple of attempts to unlock it, but after fumbling around for a bit (and finding out that it was one of those phones that could have a keyboard or a number pad depending how you opened it) I finally got to the message screen. It read that I had two new messages from Mercurio, and one from Sebastian. I opened LaCroix's first.

Mercurio will be taking you to the gym today. Be sure  
to wear appropriate attire, and to be ready by 2:30  
PM. After that he will take you to dinner, and then you  
will be introduced to my other agents. I may or may  
not be there to introduce you to them, so if I am not,  
then I bid you a good day.  
-SL

I raised an eyebrow, not just because he initialed his text, or that it was all proper spelling and grammer, but that it had only been sent a moment ago. Shouldn't he be asleep by now? And how the hell does he seem to know when I'm awake?

I would have to ask Mercurio about it, I decided, and opened the first text from the man.

Hey kid, up and at 'em! We're headed to the gym in a  
few hours, so get dressed and fed! I'll come get you  
soonish.  
-Merc

I snorted and opened the second message.

By the way, the cell and the blackberry are yours. You  
also have a new email address through the company.  
All of your emails from your old account are stored on  
this one, and any emails sent to the old account  
will be directed to the new one. The password for  
your computer and email are the same: bloodlines.  
-Merc

I sighed at the fact that I wouldn't have a whole lot of time to explore the room further, but I decided to postpone breakfast for another few moments. I logged onto the computer, and then opened up my email. There was one new message, but from an unknown sender. Suspicious, I ran a quick virus check, but it was clean. I opened it.

By darkest moon, and by darkest night,  
your own dark past will be brought to light,  
to aid you in the trials to come,  
for very soon, the end of nights will come.

-A friend.

What the hell?

A sudden loud knocking made me almost jump out of my skin.

"Who is it?" I called, hurriedly signing out of the email and logging out. Something made me want to hide this message. A familiar voice called back "It's me. Are ya decent yet?" I cursed. It was Mercurio, ready to take me somewhere already. "No, sorry, I just got up." I yelled back, racing for the wardrobes to pick something out. I quickly found and yanked on a pair of soft grey sweatpants, white socks, blue and white sneakers, a sports bra, and a black tanktop. Yanking the large wooden brush through my hair (which luckily was not very messy anyways), I found a hair tie and headed for the door. I would have to look at that email later.

I opened the door to find Mercurio waiting on the other side. His eyebrows were raised in both surprise and amusement. "Wow, you dress fast, kiddo." He chuckled. "Ready to go?" "Ready to go where?" I asked. I still hadn't eaten anything. "To breakfast, then down to the gym, and then after that a tour around the penthouse. You'll be spending a lot of time here, so you might as well get familiar with the place. So, are ya ready?" "I suppose so. Lead on." I said.

We stopped off at the kitchen first, where I grabbed a toasted bagel with 'light' strawberry cream cheese spread along with a glass of milk. I scarfed it down, or at least ate as fast as my new sense of taste would let me. Every bite was like a symphony of flavours: the strong, artificial taste of strawberry, the lovely hint of cream, and the bready flavour of the bagel. Afterwards, we headed to the company gym in Venture tower.

As we stood in elevator, Mercurio explained to me about what we were doing. "When we get down there, we'll go to a private section of the place. It'll have weights, tread mills, a running track... and a small gymnastics area. I need to get you up to speed on your new abilities so you don't do what you did last night unless you want to." The elevator dinged and the door slid open to a desk that was in front of a large, high ceilinged room. Past it, I could see what could only be business people working out: woman with lined faces and too much make up were walk-reading leisurely on treadmills; large, sweaty men walked around an indoor track, no doubt just completing their second lap and about to leave. The whole place stank of sweat, stress, and cheap grey-targeting hair dye. Mercurio took out his wallet and flashed a card to a bored looking attendant, who nodded and seemed to press something behind the desk. Instead of heading towards the large open room, Mercurio walked over to an unmarked door and opened it, revealing a large room filled with expensive exercise machines and its own indoor track.

"Alright kiddo, start with that one over there, and we'll work our way through." said Mercurio, pointing to a contraption that looked like it exercised the thigh muscles.

An hour and a half later, we finished with the machines. I had gotten quite a decent workout, especially when I was lifting weights that normal full grown men would struggle with. And I'm not that terribly fit to begin with. I did two laps around the kilometer long track, which Mercurio timed: I did it in about forty five seconds, sprinting. On the treadmill, I ran for a good fifteen minutes at a fast lope. And as we progressed through the workout, I learned the limits of my new strength, and knew that from now on the things I broke would only be broken because I wanted them to be. I've never felt so in shape or alive.

After we went into a connecting room that contained a small gymnastics playground: spring boards, two balance beams, horizontal bars, and lots of padded floor space. "The first thing I want you to do is to jump, not climb, but jump onto this balance beam." Mercurio said, patting the object which was four feet off the floor. No problem, considering I jumped about the same distance last night with not a whole lot of effort. But I don't have the best head for heights, or great balance, and all I could think of was 'what if I fall off?'. I hesitated. Mercurio raised an eyebrow, and I sighed inwardly. I bent my knee's, and jumped. Up I went, above the beam... and landed squarely on top. I wobbled to correct myself, then realized that it was unnecessary. I was perfectly balanced, and my struggles only came from force of habit. I straightened. "Now I want you to walk to the end." directed Mercurio. I took a step and wobbled, a real wobble, but I quickly stabilized myself. The next step was better, and the next, until I was at the end, triumphant. Grinning, I executed a bow and a flourish. And promptly fell off.

I should have landed hard on my side, but it seemed as if time slowed down, and I had time to twist and right myself before I hit the ground. It wasn't a graceful landing, but at least I was upright. When I looked at Mercurio, this time both his eyebrows were raised, but he looked amused. I sighed, outwardly this time, then leaped back onto the balance beam. After a few more lengths of the beam, we called it a day at the gym and headed back up to the penthouse. There, I showered and dressed, this time in jeans, a soft white camisole, and a black over jacket that hooked together in front of my chest. As soon as I was ready, Mercurio took me on a tour of the penthouse.

The sheer size of the place astounded me. Room after room went by: a billiards room, a boardroom, a sitting room, several guest suites and offices, even an art gallery, a small ballroom... and a large indoor swimming pool. Every room was beautifully decorated, but always in a victorian style. Was this a clue about LaCroix's real age? Did he have a bout of nostalgia when he built his miniature mansion?

We stopped at a particularly fancy set of doors, made of ebony with gold handles instead of mahogony and silver. Mercurio continued. "And this is Mr. LaCroix's personal chambers. He's sleeping right now, obviously, so we can't go in." It was six o'clock in the evening, so I guess he would be up in a few hours. "I'm surprised he would let us in there anyways." I said. Mercurio shrugged, saying "Ah, well, Mr. LaCroix likes to show off his wealth. I've been in there and I gotta tell ya, it puts your room to shame." "What about yours?" "Oh, I don't live in Venture Tower. I live in Santa Monica, by the pier. Santa Monica Suites, Room 4. Its a nice enough place."

He turned to continue down the hall, and I followed. "So how old is Mr. LaCroix, really?" I asked. "He was born in Calais, France, over two hundred years ago." said a most unexpected voice. I whirled around to see Sebastian LaCroix standing in his bedroom doorway, wearing his usual suit and looking regally amused.  
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**morgan145: And so ends the fifth chapter, again without a LaCroix part. Don't worry, his part is coming soon. I really hope that this is not going too slow for you, t****his chapter I just wanted to focus on what its like to be a ghoul.** It will pick up soon, I promise! By the way, I just want to thank you all so much for your support, reviewers and readers alike! You all brighten up my day, and your advice is always helpful! I hope I can continue to keep you guys loving my story. 

**Again, reviews are welcome and encouraged.**

**Peace.**

**UPDATE: added something to the penthouse tour: an indoor swimming pool. Thats right, LaCroix has an indoor swimming pool in his penthouse. He's just that awesome.**


	6. The Others

Damn, he looked good.

There he was, proud as any noble, in his crisp black suit and freshly combed over hair. There was something about him that made me straighten up instantly, my feet sliding together and my hands moving to clutch my forearms loosely behind my back. "Good evening, Prince." I said, my voice at its most formal. Mercurio seemed to feel the same way, cleaning up his already great posture and making sounds of greeting. LaCroix nodded in return. "Thank you Mercurio, I shall take it from here." the vampire said. As Mercurio left, LaCroix beckoned for me to follow and went back into the room. I stepped inside, and had to stop.

If I thought before was opulance, I realized that the rest of the penthouse was a barn compared to this.

A beautifully patterned wooden floor of cedar and oak stretched before me. The center of the room was sunk three feet into the ground with steps leading out on all sides, and held an ornately carved black and white colonial chairs and a low black coffee table. On the wall to my right was a huge mounted flat screen T.V., much larger than my own, and on the left was a door (presumably leading to a bathroom), a massive mahogony wardrobe, and a large free standing silver edged mirror. The lower right hand corner had a sort of museum setup, and the opposite corner had a desk similar to mine, except it was made of mahogony. On top of it sat an opened expensive laptop. And centered on the far wall was huge four-poster bed made of cedar, covered with black silk sheets. I almost shook my head in wonder; everything here was so big.

LaCroix, who had been pouring himself a drink while I stared, straightened up. "So, what do you think?" he asked. I spoke without thinking. "Impressive and beautiful both come to mind in equal haste." and nostalgia comes close behind, I finished in my head, and tensed up. I could not believe I had just spoke like I came out of a Shakespearian play! Where was my self control? Usually I could dilute the 'old talk' a bit when I thought about what was I was going to say after being stunned like this. I clenched my teeth, waiting for the awkward silence and words such as "Okay..." or "Right..." to come out of his mouth.

But they never came. Instead, he simply nodded with a considering look on his face. "I'm glad you think so; I spared no expense when building my private chambers."

No kidding.

"Uh, sir, is there something you needed to talk to me about?" I asked hesitantly. LaCroix nodded. "Yes, there is, but first I wish to show you something."

He turned and walked towards the corner of artifacts, and I followed. A really old fashioned army uniform stood in a glass stand, and on several tables lay a rifle, a bayonette, a long knife, and other old tools of war. I wracked my brains, trying to remember what was happening in France 200 years ago. It all looked familiar somehow... and then it came to me.  
_

"With respect, sir, I would never have thought that you were a soldier once. An officer, right?" said the Old Soul.

Sebastian thought fast on how to continue. Damn, this girl threw him right off his stride! One minute she was a 21st century teenager, and the next she was from another age and another life. And her intuition! _Merde_, he didn't expect for her to know at first glance who's uniform was sitting on that stand!

Giving himself a mental shake, he smiled pleasantly.

"Yes, after I graduated the Royal Military Academy, I joined Napoleans ranks. I was Embraced by a Belgian noble shortly after Waterloo." He paused. "What gave me away?"

She seemed to think for a moment, unsure, because for all she knew that could have been the Emperor's own regalia. Finally she replied. "Who's else could it be? And if it wasn't, why show it to me?" A fair enough observation. But was it because it actually did look like he could have worn it, or was it some inexplicable moment of insight? Sebastian didn't know, but if she could keep making these sorts of connections on a regular basis, especially around his enemies...

Oh, the possibilities.

He allowed for her to study his old equipment for a few more minutes before leading her over to his desk. He pulled up a few pictures, then looked meaningfully at her from across the desk.

"The pictures that I am about to show you are of one of the thirteen vampire clans that I told you about. This clan is Nosferatu. Their curse twists and deforms their bodies until they are hideous and terrifying. They are, unfortunately, walking Masquerade violations because they are so obviously monsters. They almost always stick to sewers and back alleys to avoid detection. However it is because of their mastery of stealth that they are a most valuable source of information. In brief, if you want someone watched, or need something found, you go to them, if you can pay their price." He took an unneccesary breath. "The images I am about to show you may be disturbing. I suggest you take a moment to prepare yourself."

He turned the laptop towards her.

He expected screaming. He expected fainting. He did not expect for her to simply raise her eyebrows and widen her eyes. Sebastian didn't know whether he felt thankful or offended. He supposed it was a bit of both.

After a moment, she took a deep breath, as if to steady herself, and said, "It is hard not to pity them. I imagine that they are a very bitter people. I don't blame them." Sebastian nodded in agreement. Yet again, she had impressed him. He sighed. "There is a specific reason why I showed you this. Do you remember how last night we were interupted by an emergency?" When she nodded he continued. "Last night there was a raid made by enemies of the Camarilla. During this raid, one of the Primogen were killed, the Nosferatu Primogen. Now obviously such an important member needs to be replaced soon, so in a week I shall be holding court so that I can review the possible candidates for the job. I thought that I should prepare you in advance so we don't repeat last nights' incident." she blushed a little, and the tiniest hint of an embarassed smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Sebastian glanced at his rolex. "Well, I suppose it is high time for dinner." he gestured towards the door.

"Shall we?"

With a surprised blink, the Old Soul went out the door with Sebastian close behind.  
_

As LaCroix and I headed for the elevator, I thought over what I saw. The Nosferatu... I pitied them. Forever hiding in the shadows, probably never recieving the full respect of others because of their looks. I guess the many kinds of prejudices that people carry in life often carry over into undeath.  
_

The restaurant within the Tower was incredibly fancy, as per usual with everything else I found here. LaCroix proved to be a pleasant dinner partner, serious but not boring, talking about this and that but nothing terribly important. I found it hard to believe that the young looking man in front of me was two hundred years old, but as I watched I realized a startling detail: his eyes were like mine, old and mature beyond the supposed years of their owner. But there was something else there too, a predatory intelligence that was coldly calculating everything. It sent cold shivers of fear down my spine and a pleasant jolt of adrenaline through my body. Unfortunately it was very hard to pay attention at times, as it seemed that everyone elses conversations were carried directly to my ears. At one point, i saw a well dressed middle aged man enter the mens room, and LaCroix excused himself and followed. After a few minutes he came back, looking satisfied. When the middle aged man came back out, he looked a little bit dizzy, but otherwise no worse for wear, not even a puncture wound in his neck.

Near the end of the meal, LaCroix took out a piece of paper and gave it to me. On it was the list of guests that would be attending the funeral in the next couple of days. I was delighted to see many familiar names there, including my boyfriend Johnathan and my best girl Lydia. At first I was a little confused because of the group of executives that were invited, but then I realized that LaCroix would need people to feed upon. I was secretly pleased that he was bringing these people instead of feasting on my relatives and friends. As I read, LaCroix outlined the schedule. First we would go to St. Michaels Church for Mass, then we would go to a nearby graveyard for the burial. Lastly we would go to a local lounge for the memorial. And it would all start at eight o'clock at night, just in time for LaCroix to attend.

Dinner finished, we stepped again into the elevator, and stepped out again in the lobby of Venture Tower. High ceilings made of the dark granite that covered the whole lobby sported white lights that gave the impression of stars. A dramatic stairway curved around the security desk. And behind that security desk was an obese security gaurd who looked like he had just dozed off. LaCroix stopped in front of the desk and frowned. Actually, it was more of a glare. I dearly hoped that I would never be on the recieving end of one of those glares. It seemed to be able to get someones attention even in their sleep, as after a few seconds the gaurd woke up with a disgusting snorting noise, realized who was there, and seemed to shrink back into his seat.

"Having a good rest, officer?" LaCroix said venomously. The gaurd paled. "I'm t-terribly sorry Mr. LaCroix, it won't h-happen again, I promise!" the man stammered. LaCroix gave a sigh that had a faint, annoyed hiss in it and beckoned me closer. "Ms. Kepler, I would like to introduce you to the, night shift lobby sergeant, Officer Krantz. Mr. Krantz, this is Ms. Kepler. She will be staying with me here at Venture Tower, so I'll be needing that security card I requested." As the Officer feverishly dug through the desk for the card (no doubt terrified for his job) I inwardly chuckled. But I was sobered by my pity for the poor man behind the desk.

Finally Krantz found the card, and LaCroix handed it to me. "This is your way into the Tower and into my penthouse. All you need do is show it to the gaurd here, or slide it into the card reader beside or in the elevator to use it. It will also provide you access to many other areas of the building." I slid the card into my back pocket, making a mental note to ask about getting a new wallet, and replacements for all the documents I lost during the mugging. We headed out the double doors.

It was full dark outside, though the city lights of downtown Los Angeles made it seem like day. I almost stopped (yet again) at the sight of the giant holding the door of a black stretch limo open, the same giant that was with LaCroix in the alley. The creature must have been nine feet tall, with broad, broad shoulders that looked about five feet apart. A huge sword was strapped to its back, and it wore what looked like elephant skin as a coat. I waited until LaCroix and I were settled in the car and the door was closed until I hissed "What was that?" The vampire looked amused. "He is the Sheriff, my iron fist. Where words don't work, I send him. He hauls law-breakers to court, or simply deals with them... the hard way. The less one sees of him, the better." "But wouldn't he threaten the Masquerade? He's huge!" LaCroix sighed, almost chuckling at my concern. "My dear ghoul, do you really think I wouldn't notice that and take neccessary precautions? If you must know, I purchased a certain item that, when worn, only allows nonhumans and ghouls to see his true form. Everyone else sees a stereotypical modern bodyguard. I assure you that the Masquerade is quite safe from being broken, though it is gratifying that you take an interest in such matters."

The ride to the Skyline Apartments was short and uneventful, the two of us sitting in silence. The elevator up to the eighth apartment was equally uneventful. We stood outside the apartment for a few moments, with LaCroix giving me a bit of a pep talk before we went in. "Now, the agents you are about to meet are all vampires from several different clans. Members of each clan tend to act a certain way, so I hope that this experiance will help you to identify which clan a vampire belongs to. Knowing what a vampire's clan is can be helpful when dealing with them in many different ways, such as predicting how they will react to a situation." He turned and knocked on the door. It immediatly swung open, and we went inside.

The room was full of vampires, not one of them looking a day over 25. A beautiful woman with pale, pale skin and short red hair lounged in a stuffed leather chair, looking fashion oriented in her purple overshirt and white camisole. A dark skinned man with dreads closed the door behind us, his every movement reminding me of something wild. In one corner sat the Malkavian Stacey and a young man who must be her brother. He already creeped me out, and it wasn't just because of his freaky hair style or pierced nipples. In the opposite corner by the door was Matthew Baily and his sister, a regal woman with short brown hair and a bored, "I have better things to do" expression on her face. But as soon as the Prince came to a halt she stepped forward fluidly, saying in a formal voice, "Welcome, my Prince." "Yes, good evening." LaCroix said, seeming to address everyone at once. The woman drew back, a barely discernible disappointed and frustrated look in her eyes. Interesting.

At this point LaCroix introduced me to the rest of the group. "This is my newest attendant, Alice Kepler. As she will become an important member of my court, I need her to become familiar with my best agents as she may come in contact with you often." He pointed to the woman in the chair. "This is Isabelle Rosette. Her clan is Toreador." "Hello, darling." the woman drawled, giving me a lazy smile. LaCroix continued. "Hers is the clan of artists and visionaries. They are also world class manipulators." "Now now, my Prince, I'll not have you spoiling the cream for this young one." the woman - Isabelle - said with a warm, cocky smile. She rose to her feet, the definition of grace. All I wanted to do was watch her, to listen to her every word as she came over and shook my hand. Summer sky blue eyes met mine, making me want to please her, to make her happy...

I gave myself a violent shake, unnerved by how easy it was to fall for her. I made a mental note to watch for those 'symptoms' when dealing with the Toreador. "My clan is also known to be the most humane, and because of this we blend easiest with the mortal world." she said, linking my arm with hers. She leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "Ventrue are so critical and boring, don't you think?" I stiffened, sure that everyone, including a certain important Ventrue, had heard that statement. But LaCroix seemed to ignore her, moving on the the next vampire, the one with the dreads.

"Andreas Areli is from clan Gangrel. They are the clan most in tune with the Beast within." "Beast?" No one mentioned a beast before! The Gangrel snarled, sounding not quite human. I flinched and took a step back. Then I was briefly annoyed when he laughed, but he stopped as soon as he noticed LaCroix's frown.

"All Kindred are subject to the Beast. It is the animal within us, the most basic part of any creature." said the regal woman beside Matthew. "Kindred not only drink blood to keep from withering, child, but also to keep the Beast from taking over in times of fear and pain." "Ah, yes, and this is Jane Baily, Matthew's sister." LaCroix continued. I went forward to shake her hand, but a certain wariness wanted me to deny her the formality. I shook it anyways, and was mildly surprised that she only returned her physical greeting only as long as strictly necessary, though she seemed to try to hide it with a warm smile that wasn't really warm.

"And last but not least, is the Malkavian's brother, Joelle." The creepy looking guy stepped forward with a solicitous smile on his face. He ran his tongue along his top lip, looking hungry. Stacey abruptly slapped him across the face, glaring at him. "Show the old one some respect, little brother!" she snapped. Joelle glared back at her, then sighed petulantly and raised a hand which I shook. His grip was so strong it almost threatened to bruise my hand. When he let go, I stepped back to my position beside LaCroix as fast as possible while trying not make it look like I was fleeing.

A few seconds later, LaCroix announced that he needed to speak with Joelle and Andreas outside for a moment. I wondered briefly if they were getting in trouble for their actions, but I could already hear the Prince outlining a plan of sorts through the wall. I tried not to gulp visibly as the door closed behind them, sealing me in with the others. But as soon as the door closed, Stacey bounded over to me (she actually jumped the long way over the coffee table) and gave me a painful hug, looking like the happiest child in the world. "Oh, happy a time it is to see you, Little Widow! Welcome to our haven!" she sang, failing to notice that I was trying to break free of her vice like grip. Luckily, Isabelle intervened and pried me out of her arms, and sat me on their sofa.

"Would you like anything to drink?" she asked. "We keep a small stock of pop and whatnot in the fridge, just in case one you people come over." I glanced at the clock. Twelve thirty already. "Ummm..." I hesitated, thinking back to all those times when my mother had prohibited caffeinated drinks after eight. But what the hell. I was already getting the idea that as a vampire's attendant, I was going to have to get used to wacky times like this. Besides, at twelve thirty at night a vampire's 'day' was really just starting. I said yes, coke please, and a can was brought over right away. Drinking the cold liquid, I began to get to know the agents a little better as they each told the story of their Embrace.

Isabelle had been attending The Los Angeles Film School ten years ago when one day her night class professor asked her to speak with him after the lesson.

Stacey had been working at a strip club in the sixties until she went into the back to do a private dance.

Her brother Joelle had been a male prostitute and was barely getting by when his Sire found him a few years later.

Andreas had been out walking his dogs when he met a mysterious stranger on the street just three years ago.

Matthew and Jane's stories were the same: office interns both belonging to old money families who decided to go over to their bosses house for dinner one night and ended up the meal.

As the stories were told, it disturbed me more and more how random and sudden these events were. I soon realized that this could happen at any time, anywhere. The thought of how easily it could have been me brought chills to my spine

After a time LaCroix returned, saying that he and I should return to Venture Tower for the evening. As I said my goodbyes, I could see that the clock read three thirty in the morning. On the ride back, LaCroix offered some small talk about my 'bonding time' with the other agents, but for the most part seemed to brood in his corner of the vehicle. That was fine with me, as I myself had some thoughts to mull over.

Isabelle in my mind was the definition of the modern vampire: beautiful, sensous, dazzling, and deadly. I could see it in her eyes that, despite her humanity, she had done her own fair share of killing. But I couldn't help but admire her ability to bend people to her will with a smile and a well placed word. I could come to really like her in time, once I got used to her manipulative side. Andreas I could get used to, but probably never truly feel comfortable around him. Our brief interaction, I admit, scared the shit out of me. He had sounded so... inhuman, so animal like. I would have to be careful around him, though he probably had no intention of actually hurting me. So far.

Jane and Joelle, however... Jane I could feel was next to hostile with me, like the nasty girls that so often populate school. I would have to be extra watchful with her. Joelle... well, lets just say that I never want to have to deal with him again.

I almost escaped to my room for some much wanted rest, but LaCroix seemed to feel that it was necessary to make me stand here while he simply told me that I had a free day tomorrow. Recognizing that I was getting grumpier by the second, I said my goodnight as fast as I could without being rude, though somehow I still felt a sort of reluctance to part. I walked through the corridors, first finding the kitchen and grabbing a quick drink of sugar free pink lemonade before heading off to my room. It still gave me shivers, knowing it was mine, but I quickly got over it for the night and changed into my pajama's and crawling into bed. But the last things that were on my mind before I passed out were two questions.

What sort of important position was I supposed to hold in the Princes court?

And why does Stacey keep calling me the 'old one'?  
_

Jane settled back into her chair, inwardly seething. She had done everything right, shown LaCroix the proper amount of respect and affection, and he still didn't look at her any differently from the rest! Goddamnit, she tried so hard to make her fair haired Prince happy, to make herself stand out, but it was always a waste, always! And that little blood doll of his, standing beside him like the well trained puppy, in Jane's rightful place, having done nothing to deserve that spot but be in the right place at the right time...

The Ventrue's nails pierced the leather like razors.

Oh, she would have to find a way to deal with this pretty little blood doll. She was only human, a lowly ghoul, a blood whore, she had nothing on one born of the Kingship Clan. Jane would find a way to eliminate this rival. All she needed was time...  
_

**morgan145: Oh my GOD, finally I'm done this chapter! Sorry that this took so long, guys, I had a lot on my plate these last few weeks, I'll make sure I have one more chapter done at least in the next couple of weeks at most.**

**On that note, I feel I ought let you all know that I will be leaving home for seven weeks in the summer for a job. Unfortunately I have no idea when or if I'll have access to a computer during this time, so like I said before, I'm going to work hard to finish one more chapter before I leave. Don't worry, I sure as hell am going to come back to this as soon as I get back, but I thought that you all should be warned about this.**

**Thank you rednightmare, JPMiller, LovingCompanionCube, and SpecialAgentOrange, your thanks is long overdue! I appreciate your helpful comments.**

**And thanks to all the silent readers out there, you guys are awesome, and again, I hope I can keep you all interested.**

**As usual, I invite you all to review, but please, no flamers.**

**Peace!**

**Edit: just tweaking some things, nothing major.**


	7. Mourning and Reunions

Sebastian sat at his desk toying with a small gold cross on a chain, bringing himself back to his younger days...

Newly awoken from the Embrace, horrified at what had happened to him...

Running to the church, to the sympathetic priest who had tried to calm him, to hush his terrified cries...

Blood, dripping everywhere, all over him, the ground, the white robes of the holy man, and feeling so satisfied, so alive, elated that finally his thirst had been quenched...

But not quenched. He wanted more, wanted it all...

With an effort Sebastian wrenched himself from those memories.

Tonight was the funeral for the girl's family. Truth be told, he hated funerals. Not only were they boringly depressing, but he could never could get rid of that odd sense of irony that lingered at the back of his mind while he was there. Thankfully, invitations to these events were extremely rare, but even then he would try to find some excuse to be somewhere else. The only reason he would ever agree to attend is only if it was going to help strengthen important ties with someone. As was the case tonight.

Sebastian had prepared himself to deal with a grieving young girl this evening. If all went well, she would become even more grateful to him, thus increasing his influence. It wasn't as if he felt nothing towards her situation; certainly her family's demise was unfortunate. But that was besides the point. Anyways, he was interested as to what her spiritual views were. After so many lifetimes, religious beliefs were bound to blend together. Perhaps, if he spoke to her at the right time, in the right way, he would be rewarded with snippets of conversation that would most likely rock him off his foundations, as well as provide some insight as to how to handle her in similar situations in the future.

So much wisdom to be found in such a young body. Who knows? Maybe he might be told the meaning of life.

Sebastian smiled at this. Legends and texts of Old Souls were rare, but the few he had found said that the only the most ancient souls apparently knew this great secret consciously, and only 'remembered' this later on in its life. This girl may be old inside, but he doubted she was that old. With a glance at the clock, he sighed, then fastened the chain around his neck and tucked the cross underneath his shirt. Sebastian had never been religious, even less so after his Embrace. But he always wore the cross he found on the priest he drained as a reminder of how easily the Beast could slip the leash. He stood up, grabbed his coat, and went to join the funeral party.

It was raining.

Fitting, I suppose, for the night of my family's funeral.

It seemed like one of those black and white movies. The whole world was bleached of colour. I sat in the limo, watching the water droplets sliding off the glass as if in a trance. I felt nothing, saw nothing. I kept waiting for tears, waiting for sobs, for anything, anything at all, but nothing came. I was empty.

Standing outside the Church with LaCroix, I saw many familiar faces, but didn't really register anything until:

"Alice!"

My head snapped up, following the direction of the noise. I nearly cried out with joy as two especially welcome faces appeared out of the crowd: Lydia and Johnathan.

I leapt forward to greet them, heedless of the rain.

Pretty Lydia Harrows, with her curling golden brown locks, freckles, and a twinkle in her large bright blue eyes that spoke of mischief and a mean protectiveness that staved off bullies many a time throughout elementary and high school. We had been friends since kindergarten, after she beat the crap out of two boys that wouldn't stop bothering me. Since then we were closer than sisters, despite the fact that we had virtually nothing in common: She, the entrepreneurial model who found after her first time that she enjoyed sex, and me, the bookworm photographer who kept somewhat to the more conservative side of things. Sounds cliched, I know. But I was always glad to see her, no matter our differences.

"Oh my god, oh my god! Girl, I am so, so sorry!" she cried, pulling me into one her infamous bone breaking hugs. Though now that I had experianced a real bone breaking hug in the arms of a vampire, this one didn't seem so bad. She pulled away for a moment, long enough to give LaCroix a customary handshake.

And an inviting rake of her eyes.

Suddenly I wanted to tear her eyes out, rip out her throat, claw at her until there was no flesh left on her bones and only red muscle and white sinew showed. I wanted to...

WHOA!

I took a mental and emotional step back, reeling and shaking. What the FUCK just happened? I never wanted to hurt her, not like that, no matter who she flirted with on any level! What the hell just happened to me?

While I stood there trying to get back on even emotional ground, Johnathan took the opportunity to step forward and wrap me in his arms. "Hello, sweetheart," he whispered softly. Ah, Johnathan Bane, the boy in my life who never failed to make me feel better, no matter how much life sucked. Golden eyes complimented dirty blonde hair that fell just past his earlobes. Being one of the quarterbacks of the football team at our highschool, he had a thick, solid build. Brushing back my now damp hair, he kissed my forehead. I instantly melted into his warm chest, wanting to sink in and disappear from the world forever. Unfortunately, my bliss was short lived. Placeing his left hand on my waist, he extended his right to LaCroix, who shook it firmly. There was an odd look in Johnathan's eyes, but before I could decipher it the Church bell sounded, warning us all that Mass was about to start.

We took our places in the pews, with LaCroix on my right and Johnathan and Lydia on my left. As Mass began, I suddenly realized that I didn't want to be there, listening to an old man sermonizing about death and Heaven and Hell, about Salvation and Eternal Damnation...

I was relieved when the hymns started. I'm no bible thumper, but I've always found Christian hymns to be beautiful in their own way. They spoke of faith without doubt, adoration without condition. LaCroix, to my surprise, joined in during the hymns. His voice was surprisingly good. It probably wouldn't win him any prizes, but it certainly wasn't terrible to listen to either. It rose and fell, first soft, then strong. I wondered briefly and with some amusement if there wasn't anything the Prince couldn't do: He was a leader, a politician, a soldier, a businessman, and he could sing. What other surprises lay in store for me? An artist as well? Or maybe even a fellow photographer? I almost snorted out loud at that.

The Mass came to a close, and the guests filed out to their cars for the funeral procession. Several close family members as well as myself stayed behind to carry the coffins to their hearses. I had to carry my grandmother's coffin once, only a year ago, and I remember being barely able to lift it in spite of help from four other full grown men and my mother. Now, holding my mother's coffin from the foremost handle near the head, it seemed to only be a little bit hard to lift. A reminder of the drastic changes in my life. During the ride to the cemetary, I was silent once again.

The burial ceremony came and went, still without a word from me. As people trickled out to go to the local lounge for the memorial, sometimes touching me on the shoulder or arm as a form of comfort, I stood there, rooted to the edges of their graves. After a few moments a cool hand rested on my shoulder that could only be LaCroix. He said something, but for once I didn't listen. The world became blurry, and my breath became ragged. All at once I couldn't stand anymore, and sank to my knees, heedless of the water that seeped into my skirt. The tears had finally come.

I wept quietly, but fiercely. I wept for all the love I had lost all because of greedy, trigger happy monsters. My mother, who always had time to talk with an open mind and heart. My father, who made the effort to make sure that he spent time with me. And my brother, who always came to me for advice, and even dragged me down to his first grade class to explain proudly what an awesome sister I was. All gone within moments. In the space of a half an hour that felt like ages I once again squeezed out all my pain and tears, like I had the first night. But they were gone, all gone, and now I could begin to heal.

I stood up, turned around, and was mildly surprised to find not only LaCroix, but Lydia and Johnathan waiting as well, though they stood apart from the vampire. To my slight annoyance and embarrassment, the rain had soaked through my hair and shoulders, and the skirt was muddy where my knees had pressed into the ground.

Thankfully, LaCroix had actually brought an extra set of clothes in anticipation of this. As we sat once again in the limo while Lydia and Johnathan took another car, he said gently "I did the same thing when I learned of my own families death, even though I hadn't seen them since my Embrace thirty eight years before. They died both of old age and sickness, and the only way I could comfort myself was to believe that they had lived a long good life and were in Heaven now." I didn't respond. "Do you believe in Heaven, Alice?" he asked. A shiver went through me when he said my first name alone. "I believe in reincarnation." I said quietly. "I believe that Heaven and Hell are the Karmic outcomes for the general course of each new life." For a moment the only sound was the hum of the engine before LaCroix spoke again. "And what do you think we are supposed to do in each life?" "Learn." I said. "Learn and pass on our knowledge to each other, from each life to the next, until we have learned everything there is to know and our Karmic debts are repaid."

LaCroix blinked, and for a moment I feared that I had weirded him out, or worse, offended any religious beliefs of his own. I usually kept this sort of thing to myself for this exact reason. But to my intense relief, he became thoughtful, seeming to turn it over and over in his mind. Finally he gave me a considering look. "How... well thought out." He said slowly. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He wasn't weirded out or offended. Instead he seemed genuinely interested. But there was no more time for philosophizing. We had arrived at the lounge where the memorial was taking place. As soon as we stepped inside I darted into a bathroom to change, and to compose myself for the oncoming sympathy.

Sebastian watched the Old Soul slip inside a bathroom with her bag of clothes, and decided that he also needed a moment alone. The first chance he got he slipped into the male washroom which, thankfully, locked. Gripping the sink, he allowed himself to slide into a moment of minor, quiet hysterics.

"And what do you think we are supposed to do in each life?" he had asked.

"Learn." she said. "Learn and pass on our knowledge, from each life to the next, until we have learned everything there is to know and our Karmic debts are repaid."

Dear God, he never would have suspected... and they weren't supposed to know this until later on in life, not at a mere eighteen years old! How long had she known this? Just how old was this soul? Five thousand years? Six thousand?

If anything, it at least was a clue as to where she may have spent many of her lifetimes. To the East, India most likely. Probably Hindu or Buddhist or both. Sebastian didn't really know if he had just been told the meaning of life, but there was something so ingrained about the way she said it, so automatic and without doubt, as if it was just another small fact of life.

Thank God she wasn't yet fully awakened, armed with more knowledge and wisdom than the all Methuselahs of the world held collectively. He didn't know what he would do then.

A polite knock at the door brought him forcefully out his brooding.

He would question her friends and family about her, and hopefully find helpful tidbits of information about this girl who was not just a girl.

With a heavy sigh, Sebastian straightened his suit, tidied up his slightly disheveled hair, and went to find his Old Soul.

I sat among friends, discussing my new 'career' within LaCroix Foundation. Sebastian and I had come up beforehand with some feasible and appropriate answers to many of the more obvious questions that may be asked.

"So what are you going to do now, Alice? Are you going to come back to Toronto for some schooling?" asked a neighbor. "Probably not." I replied. "Mr. LaCroix has been kind enough to offer a paid internship in the marketing department. And when I make some money I'll probably go to school in California. Unfortunately, marketing is based here in L.A., so I probably won't be coming home for a while."

"Do you have somewhere to stay? Because if you don't-" "Please don't worry, Aunt Emmi, it's all been taken care of. I'll be staying in Venture Tower for the time being. After I've earned enough I'll rent out an apartment."

"Mr. LaCroix's certainly taken a shine to you." joked one of my cousins. "Are you sure he doesn't want you up in his Ivory Tower for other reasons?" I nearly moaned with horror as I saw the very man walk up behind her. "Oh come on," she continued, completely oblivious. "He's pretty cute, don't you think?"

Oh. My. God.

By some miracle, LaCroix seemed to decide that he suddenly needed to elsewhere, as he turned and walked off towards the group of company executives. My cousin was informed of our near miss with a really awkward moment, and after a few peals of embarassed laughter, the questions seemed to slow down a bit.

A little while later, Lydia came and sat down beside me. "Hey girl, I got an idea to cheer you up!" she grinned as Johnathan sat down on the other side. "I think we should go... shopping! Just a day with you, me, Johnathan, and my mom's and his dad's credit cards." One of Johnathan's muscular arms encircled me, pulling me close. "What do you think, hun? Can your new boss spare you for another day at least?" he asked. "Yes, he can." said LaCroix, coming out of nowhere. He settled down in the chair opposite to us, somehow manageing to look both relaxed and business like at the exact same time. "Though it won't be necessary to spend your parent's money solely on your friend." he continued. "I'll be more than happy to provide a prepaid credit card for Ms. Kepler. That is, if you want to go." LaCroix looked at me as he finished. "Of course, but you've already done so much for me-" The vampire waved away my sputtering, smiling warmly. "Think nothing of it. I have more than enough money for myself, never fear."

After that he began to question my friends about, well, pretty much everything, from schoolwork to homelife to family and so on, and recieved some very in depth answers. He would ask a direct question, then extract more info through implying and speculation, therefore prompting the speaker to reveal more than intended. And he masked it all under light tones and a manner of friendly openess, causing both Johnathan and Lydia to relax bit by bit until they were almost chatting like old friends. It was skillfully done, and I admired him for it, even if it was a form of manipulation.

While the merry conversation was going on, I finally got a chance to really observe a vampire at work, something I've secretly wanted to do ever since I met LaCroix. It was scary, how much he stood out from everyone, though I suppose thats because I know what he is and what to look for. His ivory skin nearly looked grey against the healthy pink of the other humans in the room. He had a dominating presence about him, coupled with a sort of grace that was almost... sensual. And now that I had an opportunity to hear the difference, I noticed that even the way he spoke was different, far more sophisticated and intelligent than most people of this era.

The memorial wound down, and people came to say their farewells. It was very late now, and many of the guests had flights to catch tomorrow. Very soon it was just myself, LaCroix, Johnathan, and Lydia standing outside together on the sidewalk. The rain had let up for the moment, but hung threateningly over our heads as we said our goodbyes. My friends and I exchanged numbers, then hugged and kissed goodnight. We agreed that I would be picked up at Venture Tower tomorrow at twelve o'clock and would be back by seven in the evening. As I watched their rented car disappear around the corner, I sighed inwardly. There was so much I that I wanted to tell them, about this whole other world that was right under our noses. But I had to lie to them, for their own protection. One day, I would have to give them up completely; there was only so long one could go without ageing before people noticed. Thankfully, not yet.

LaCroix beckoned, and I climbed into the limo. At first the ride back was silent. Then the vampire said quietly, "You'll have to give them up one day. Do you understand?" yes, I answered. "Good." A few more moments passed. "I didn't know that you could sing, sir." I said tentatively. His mouth twitched into a half smile. "Yes, my mother insisted that I be in the local chapel's choir as a boy." He exhaled. "I hope that this evening was satisfactory?" Satisfactory? "It was wonderful, sir. I truly appreciate this. And thank you for allowing me to be with my friends tomorrow." He nodded. "There is a reason, however, why you must be back rather early. I have much to discuss with you about the court gathering in the next few days. I'll only have an hour or so to spare before I must return to other important matters, so I must ask that you are punctual." "Certainly." I said. "Forgive me sir, but what sort of things do you wish to discuss?" His smile turned grim.

"Vampire politics."


	8. A Crash Course in Jyhad

I slipped through the crowd of sweaty, writhing bodies, trying to find a place to sit. Sensory overload was in full swing at Venture Lounge as multi color strobe lights flashed, cigarette smoke swirled, and music blared its way into my sensitive ghoul ears. I longed to be back in the quiet, stately room with LaCroix, but the sneering voices and the prying questions had driven me out. The jagged teeth, shifty eyes, and boils made me want to puke too.

Every one of the Nosferatu Candidates were nothing more than slippery suck ups. I didn't even need to know the interests of their clan to see that all these fakes wanted was a high power job to suit their own interests. They simply didn't give a damn about anything else. It sickened me how people could be so obviously greedy. How the hell the Prince didn't notice put me off my stride as well. Always, after every interview, he would ask me questions: what do you think about this one? Is he sincere? What do you think she meant by this? Why he asked these questions, or listened intently to their answers, was beyond me. LaCroix was supposed to be the politician here, not a ghoul. And that confusing, hour long lesson on that ancient game known as Jyhad hadn't really helped me at all. This constant power struggle seemed so pointless to me.

Yet, in spite of my ignorance, I paid attention, and answered his questions. In the end, there were only three that fit the bill for me. Bertram Tung, a boil covered, red eyed creature, was my first choice, as he seemed to be the only one who even appeared, somehow, remotely honest. He alone didn't want the power, which in my mind showed he wouldn't misuse it. However, the Prince wanted a willing candidate, so Bertram got his wish and was passed over. Of the other two, "Gorgeous" Gary Golden, who was surprisingly good looking for his clan, had a coldness, a bitterness, about him that soured any positive thoughts I had about him. However he seemed the more obvious choice as he already hosted a small underground city for other Nosferatu, so he would definitely win a popularity contest if it came to that. The third, however, gave me shivery sensations down my spine as he stepped forward. Clad in what looked what looked like a dominatrix outfit, complete with a leather mask, vest, and gloves, he stood proudly in front of LaCroix and gave his speech.

"My name is Vincent. I have been a part of Clan Nosferatu for fifty-five years now, and during this time I have seen the darker side of both human and vampire society..."

He spoke with passion and charisma, gesturing, pacing, raising and lowering the pitch of his voice. I wanted to cheer by the time he was done, as he spoke of bettering the Nosferatu community here in L.A. The Prince gave him a considering look as the Nosferatu stepped back amidst the clapping. During the short intermission between speeches, LaCroix leaned over towards me in his high backed, dark wood chair, murmuring, "I like this one. During all public matters he always steps up to defend the Camarilla. I think this one should do, yes?" I nodded. With Bertrum out of the running, Vincent was my choice. But now with the questions done, the mob of high society vampires began to converge upon us. Solicitous queries and oily words slithered over my nerves, pulling them to the breaking point. I needed to get out, before I said something stupid. And so now I was here, pulling myself through this crowd in search of a seat and a drink.

Finally, I found a booth tucked away in a corner, with soft leather seats and a glass table top. My solitude, however, was short lived, as a girl with short brown hair slid into the seat across from me. "Hey," she drawled. Dark eyes darted back and forth, looking weirdly desperate. "I'm Patty." She continued, her low voice dragging out every word. God, she was annoying already. I gave her a courtesy greeting, a short hey and a wave. Unfortunately she seemed to take this as an invite for more. "So who's your master? Mines Kent Alan Ryan, a Toreador, really good looking. You probably don't know him though, he's really behind the scenes, doesn't really talk to lowly ghouls like you. Probably doesn't even know your master, either. He usually sticks to the higher ups, that sort of thing." she smiled arrogantly. Was this girl for real?

Actually, the funny thing was that I have met her master, back in that stately room with LaCroix, when he introduced himself. The man dressed really nicely, but I didn't like him. He felt slimy, like this girl. "Umm, actually, my master-" I nearly choked on the word "-is Prince LaCroix." I watched the look on her face change from stuck up to shock as she realized just how high up myself and my 'master' was. Then I saw her face go from shock to predatory and I was on my guard, waiting. "So, whats your name?" she drawled. "Alice," I replied, offering a hand to shake. Make her believe that your a ninny, and she'll either ignore you or pathetically attempt to pry. The shadowy thought came out of nowhere, as usual, that quiet guiding voice that lead me through so much in life. Patty continued.

"Whats your thing, then?" I frowned, confused. "Ventrue always go for the smart ones. You know, Harvard material and shit. Or just people with great connections or skills. So whats your thing, hmm?" She bobbed a finger as she guessed. "English, history, philosophy? No? Then are you a mediator, negotiator, politician... sharp shooter?" She raised an eyebrow. "What are you then?" "I'm just a photographer," I explained, wondering what the hell she was talking about. The ghoul wrinkled her nose. "A photographer?" she said incredulously. "Ventrue don't go for photographers, thats more Toreador like. But thats fine, if you don't wanna tell me, don't tell me." She scanned the crowd, seeming to search for someone. Having found him, she waved him over.

By now, several other ghouls had gathered around the sides of the table, including Mercurio, to my relief. The new one that arrived, however, I immediately wished hadn't. He had longish, dark ginger hair, large red lips and striking blue eyes, and an overall creepy look on his face. It was a like a rat was wearing his skin, in the skittish way he seemed to move, eyes darting everywhere, missing little. "Hey, Vandal," Patty drawled, "come meet Alice. She's LaCroix's new ghoul, ya know." "Hey," he said. His eyes raked my body, taking in my blue dress and black heels. "You look pretty tonight." He licked his chapped lips. "I run the blood donor clinic down in Santa Monica. Maybe you should come on down sometime to look at the... merchandise. Maybe your master might want something." He glanced from side to side. "I'll even give you a discount. Actually, why don't you come on down tonight? The place is empty, no one will know..." "Back off." Mercurio growled. Vandal glanced at him irritatedly. "Fuck off, grampa, she can decide what she wants. So what do you say," the ghoul said, turning back to me. "Does it sound like a date?" With snake like speed he grabbed my wrist.

Several things happened at once.

I cried "Hey!" and wrenched my arm out of his grip.

Mercurio reached under his coat.

And a brown haired, golden eyed youth yelled "Hey, man, leave her alone!" and got in Vandal's face, effectively blocking me from further attack.

For a full minute they stood there, Vandal staring down both Mercurio and the boy. They didn't budge, and after a moment the other ghoul sneered and walked away. I released the breath I was unintentionally holding. I hated scenes like that.

"You alright kiddo? Did that freak hurt ya?" It was Mercurio, scanning me for some nonexistent injury. "I'm alright, thanks." I confirmed, feeling a bit shaken and upset. I hated being the damsel in distress. After a second I realized that the boy was still standing there. "Thanks" I mumbled, feeling shy. "Hey, no problem girl, anytime." He grinned a hundred megawatt smile and held out his hand, which I shook. "The names Knox Harrington. Alice, right?" "Yea, Alice Kepler." I replied. I tried to keep my guard up, but the boy kept pulling it back down. He just seemed so... happy. Energetic. It was hard to believe that someone like him could be associated with a vampire. "So, uh, who's your master?" I asked. "Aren't ya Tung's?" Mercurio interjected. I stared with wide eyes as the boy nodded, a gleeful light lighting up his ochre eyes. Bertram was a disgusting, bubble headed creature, and this boy, well, I had to admit was kinda cute, with his short, dark brown hair, striking gold eyes, and round, earnest face. And did his jacket have a...

Yes, his jacket sported a cartoon vampire logo over the left side of his chest. How does someone like Knox end up with one of the Nosferatu? And, more interestingly, how did he react when he first saw Tung?

Glancing down at the time on my cell so I could stop staring like an idiot, it was then I realized what Mercurio was reaching for: a shiny silver pistol with a black grip sat holstered underneath his jacket. I glanced up at him, and he winked and twitched the jacket back over it.

Knox, who seemed to ignore this entire moment, piped up. "So, hey, uh, can I get you a drink?" Mercurio glared, and was about to speak when I interrupted. "It's OK" I assured him. Something about the other ghoul made me feel the same as I did for Tung: a little more honest, a little more pure, than the other ghouls that had surrounded me. And besides, I felt confidant in my ability to deflect any prying questions. I would stick with the 'stupid noob' act. As long as everyone thought I didn't know much, I would probably be ignored by spies. And the recent scene would put any would be bullies on the other side of the club. I saw the faces of the other ghouls when Mercurio stepped in; that man obviously had a reputation among the others. I would keep that in mind while searching for information.

After a last withering glare at Knox, Mercurio moved away, though he always stayed nearby. The boy grinned at me and waved over a waitress. After ordering a brown cow for myself and a beer for him, we settled back into casual conversation.

"Is it always so casual here?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "That girl didn't even ID me. Isn't the drinking age twenty-one?" "Yea, well, vampires don't seem to care so much for human laws, you know. Wait a sec, are you even American?" I laughed at his surprise as I shook my head. "No, I'm from Toronto." I answered, still smiling. "Ah, hell, your a real live Canadian? Beaver pets and all?" I almost snorted my drink through my nose. "Yep, I have a polar bear too. And dog sleds are awesome for getting around in the winter, going from igloo to igloo." we dissolved into a fit of giggles. "Seriously though, whats it like in Canada?" he asked, confusing me for a moment. "I mean, I've been on four of the seven continents, but I never went up north. Does the CN Tower really have a revolving restaurant?" I nodded, taking a sip of my drink. "It's mighty expensive though. I've only been there like twice, because it costs so much." I explained. He smirked, a charming little movement. "I wouldn't worry about that. It pays to be a kick-ass ghoul. Probably even more so for a Prince's kick-ass ghoul." Frowning, I began to put my social guard up, but Knox's sudden protest caught me off guard. "Hey hey hey! It's OK girl, I'm not here to pry, 'specially not with you. Bertram even told me not to mess with the Prince's people. I don't think he wants to get into trouble." I tilted my head, curious. "How long have you known your... master?" I still had trouble saying the word. LaCroix may have done many kind things to me, like save my life, bury my family, and offer me a place in the supernatural world, but I could never, ever think of him as my master.

Knox answered my question with incredible enthusiasm. "Aw man, well, you see, it started a couple of months ago. I was walking up to my apartment, and BAM! Bertram just, well, appeared! Scared the shit out of me, you know, with the boils and the teeth and all that. But after some explaining, I saw that vampires are here and right in front of my eyes! Blew my goddamn mind." I nodded in sympathy. I'll never forget my first meeting with Sebastian LaCroix. It was bad enough watching a young businessman turn into a monster of the night in an eye blink. But to see a Nosferatu randomly appear out of nowhere would probably have given me a heart attack right then and there. Silently I thanked whoever was out there that it was Prince LaCroix and not some passing Nosferatu who had saved my life in the alley.  
_

The night finally wound down at around four in the morning. Vampires said their farewells, taking their ghouls with them. I was still surprised to see Bertram beckon Knox over, no matter how much the boy talked about his master. As soon as everyone was gone, Mercurio and I followed LaCroix up to his office. I sighed internally, a little nervous about making my first report. It was my first time being a spy. I checked and rechecked the knowledge I had gathered from listening in on conversations and hanging around the other ghouls, and hoped that it would be enough. I would be mortified if I failed miserably at my first attempt at gathering information, though some rational part of me said that the Prince probably expected failure on some level because I was so new. As we stood before his desk I was relieved when Mercurio was asked to report first. Listening to the other ghoul I got an idea about how to structure my words. When it came time for me to speak, I brought out the most interesting tidbit I had found.

"Sir, it seems as though some ghouls are planning some massive underground party, inviting hundreds of teenagers to an old, sealed off part of the sewers." I tried not to panic as LaCroix lifted an eyebrow, looking unamused and clearly wondering why the hell I was telling him this. Thankfully, it gets better. "This really would not have interested me either, sir, except they mentioned, several times, that the 'Black Hand' would be showing up to take away some of the, and I quote, "juicier ones". Remembering your lesson from a few nights ago, I realized that the 'Black Hand' was another name for the Sabbat, and, well, considering that kidnapping teenagers from a party sounded like something they would do, I felt it was important to take note of it. Unless of course," I added almost breathlessly "this 'Black Hand' is just a band and their just talking about... um... one night stands." I finished, feeling like curling into myself and dying in some small corner. I waited in terror of the Prince's reaction.

But the look on his face had changed, from bemused to thoughtful. He clicked his pen and added some notes to the many others he had made during Mercurio's report. After a moment he looked up and made a dismissive gesture towards Mercurio. "You may go. You, however," he said, looking at me. "I need you need to stay. I'd like to discuss some things with you." When Mercurio left, LaCroix sighed and leaned back in his chair. He gave me a considering look. "Relax, young ghoul, you're not in trouble." I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and tried to loosen up a bit, but it was hard to in the man's presence.

"I'd like for you to describe to me what happened tonight, between yourself and the ghoul called Vandal." I was surprised he would even know. Mercurio had stayed close by after the incident, but then again there were times when I had been too engrossed in conversation to really pay attention. I relayed what happened, and LaCroix shook his head in an annoyed fashion. "Idiot boy," he muttered. When he saw my perplexed stare he elaborated. "Vandal is the ghoul of one of the more powerful vampires in the Santa Monica area, incidentally a Malkavian. Therese Voerman, you remember her?" I nodded. The woman was a cold, stuck up woman, but I honestly had thought she was Ventrue. The Prince continued. "Ms. Voerman has constantly been trying to gain my favor for quite some time, now. It's quite annoying, really; shes just proving herself to be another mollycoddle. And now her ghoul makes an affront to one of my own?" He chuckled darkly. "She'll punish him dearly for that. Do not worry; I'll send her a note asking her to kindly keep a better eye on her ghoul's manners." I could only imagine what sort of punishment that woman would visit upon that creeps head. I felt an odd note of satisfaction rise up in me, which I found rather disturbing. I could never, ever take pleasure in other peoples pain before I became a ghoul... perhaps it was a question for Mercurio. LaCroix went on.

"Perhaps I should have Mercurio teach you some self defense. Unfortunately, Ms. Kepler, Jyhad is a dangerous game, and this may not be the last time you have a violent encounter with its players. Fortunately, as a Prince's personal ghoul you are afforded some protection by association." I nodded in understanding. "I think I've already experienced that, sir." I said with a small smile. At the slightly surprised look on LaCroix's face I explained myself. "I was talking to the ghoul that defended me, Knox Harrington, and he told me that he wasn't there to pry. He told me that Bertram, his master, had told him specifically not question me because he didn't want to get into trouble with you." "Ah yes, the Primogen Candidate. Well, he did seem quite intelligent, and seems to have proven it. I will have to send a note off to him for his excellent choice of ghoul." Something unpleasant slithered inside of me. It was... strange, how LaCroix and other vampires seemed to refer to ghouls as if they were objects or pets. I immediately shoved away this feeling, I didn't like where it was going.

LaCroix glanced at his watch. I could read the watch face from here. It read five thirty in the morning. "I suppose it is high time for bed for both of us." He rose and walked with me most of the way to my room. "One last question." he said suddenly, snapping me out of a reverie. "What did you think of Mr. Isaac Abrams and Mr. Grout?" I thought hard on the question. Both were the first and only old looking vampires I had ever seen, Abrams looking like he was in his late fifties, and Grout in his seventies. "Somehow I doubt Abrams really likes you, sir." I joked, and LaCroix chuckled. The Toreador's cold civility and veiled jabs was one of the reasons why I needed to leave the room before I said something pithy. It irritated me that some people had the nerve to be so nasty. "It is true." the Prince said, "The man is an Anarch. A Baron, which is fundamentally a Prince, in their terms." he snorted while I shook my head at their folly. These Anarchs sought to pull down the Camarilla, but in the end, wouldn't they just become the new authority? In spite of their ideals, they would have to become the new enforcers that were already evident, like Abrams. Who else was going to defend their Masquerade otherwise, especially when the blood thirsty Sabbat seemed bent on breaking it at every opportunity? It seemed, however, that LaCroix required more than a joking comment, so I continued. "He appears to be honorable, but I really don't like his condescending attitude." LaCroix, as with any other comment I had made tonight, seemed to consider this for a moment.

"And Grout? What did you make of him?" We had stopped at an intersection, his room one way and mine the other. I thought about the Malkavian Primogen. He seemed, compared to the other vampire and ghoul males associated with that clan, the only one who appeared to not be completely hostile in any way towards me. Indeed, I could only think of his piercing stare as the Prince spoke to him: it had become so intense that LaCroix had to recapture his attention. Several times. His stare was creepy, but not cruel, or mean. It was as if... as if he couldn't quite believe I was there. "I admit, sir," I said sheepishly, "I couldn't quite get a read on him. He, well, he kind of freaked me out with his staring." "Understandable, considering the nature of his clan." LaCroix agreed. He stared pensively at the ground for a long moment, his brow knitted in a slight frown. Suddenly he looked up, and nodded.

"Well, goodnight then, Alice."

With a sharp left turn, he strode off down the hall, leaving me wondering what the hell that was about.  
_

Sebastian shut the bedroom door behind him, and allowed himself to bathe in the satisfaction of a job well done. The Old Soul was everything he could have hoped for. Every insight was well thought out and surprisingly knowledgeable, far too knowledgeable for someone so new to such politics. Was it possible she may have been a queen in a past life, or at least a noble? Her knowledge gathering skills were also surprisingly sharp. Most people, including Mercurio, would not have picked up on such a small detail, probably would have ignored it, as she said, for something as mundane as a band looking for a one night stand. He wondered how she managed to listen in on that particular group of ghouls. He knew how those places tended to be: loud, dark, and crowded, with everyone so engrossed with each other that it was surprisingly easy to hold a private conversation, provided that one keeps a lookout for any eavesdroppers. And after that scene with Voermans ghoul, it was likely that news of a new, politically high placed ghoul would spread like wildfire throughout the ranks, so they would have definitely spot her immediately out a crowd. While ghouls rarely knew much about vampire politics, they at least knew enough to know who was who on the rungs of power in Kindred society. He shook his head in wonder at his good fortune.

But, his good fortune had not come without a little help.

With a sigh of resentment, Sebastian headed over to the phone on his desk and dialed a number. After a few rings, the phone clicked and Maximilian Strauss' low, slightly breathy voice traveled over the line. "Good evening, my Prince. How may I assist you?" "It's about the Old Soul." Sebastian said crisply, and relayed tonight's happenings to the Tremere Primogen and Regent. After a long pause when he was finished, Sebastian grew impatient. "Well?" he practically demanded, but he kept his voice in check. He may be Prince, but his partnership with Strauss was from before he had won his position. In fact, this agreement of theirs was the reason why the Regent had voted for him in the first place. He would house and harness this girl's wisdom and insight for political advantage, while Strauss would periodically 'study' her. Old Souls were exceedingly rare: Alice Kepler had been one of a handful of individuals that Strauss had found after hundreds of years of searching, and the only one the old wizard had known for sure of her whereabouts. If Sebastian severed this now, not only would he make a powerful enemy, but he would also lose a valuable source of information. It was Strauss who had pointed him in her direction, had given him suggestions on how to proceed, and, when trouble comes, will be his counsel on how to deal with the Old Soul.

Finally the Tremere found it in himself to speak. "These observations are very intriguing. However, I still wish to meet with her in person." Sebastian tried not to grind his teeth in frustration. "I have told you, that is quite impossible. It would require her know about our knowledge of her before she became a ghoul, and cause her to ask some very sticky questions, and I have no wish to begin a web of lies that, if penetrated, will ruin everything." the last thing he needed was the Old Soul to wonder why, if he might have known about the mugging beforehand, he didn't come in time to save her family. Such speculation would undermine this still delicate relationship he was forming with the girl. But the Tremere insisted. "We have worked hard to find this child and bring her here. I will have my interview with her, Prince. If you are concerned about lying to her, tell her the truth, or as much of it as you feel is safe. They tend to react better if they are told the truth, even if it might hurt them. Goodnight, my Prince." with a click, the line went dead.

Sebastian slammed the phone down in its cradle. Damn that bloody usurper! How he hated sharing his prize with that old mage. It was him, not Strauss, who would suffer the critical fallout if this relationship went sour. After angrily removing his clothing, Sebastian slid into bed, turning this dilemma over and over in his mind as torpor set in. There had to be a way to do this, he just had to think!

He was struck with no revelations as semi-comatose sleep pulled him under.  
_

morgan145: hey everyone, I'm back from seven weeks of hard work, and I've finally finished this chapter that is long overdue. Just a quick detail I want to clarify: the reason why I have put 'good evening' and 'good night' down even though its supposed to be five thirty in the morning is simply because it seems to flow better than saying good morning somehow, even though chronologically speaking it makes more sense. Anywho there's probably lots more I should discuss, but it is now quarter after five in the morning and I dearly wish to get some sleep.

Thank you SpecialAgentOrange for reviewing the last chapter, it was, as usual, very insightful and constructive. I always appreciate your speculations, they are always interesting.

Thank you, all you silent readers, who may have been pulling out your hair in frustration as you waited for the next chapter. I promise I won't take so long for this next one, and I hope I can continue to keep you all interested.


	9. Into a World of Darkness

I checked my cellphone one more time, hoping that Johnathan would text back soon, and lay back on the bed, tired and sore. Mercurio's rigorous first day of self defense training had made me want to crawl out of the boxing ring and back into my room to hide. But could I do that? No, not with the Prince himself coming down to monitor my progress near the end. It was damn hard to concentrate with those icy eyes analyzing my every move, sometimes startling me with the odd correction.

"Keep your fists up!"

"Concentrate! Put your weight into your punches!"

"Get that foot higher!"

"Watch where your aiming!"

For such a busy man, he sure had a lot of time to spare to watch me learn the basics of kickboxing, I couldn't help but think sourly afterward as hot water sluiced over my body, washing off a days grime. And tomorrow I was off to the gun range. Even with ghoul strength and healing, I really had no idea how I was even to going to get out of bed.

As I lay in the darkness, it suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't checked my email for days. With a groan, I pushed myself up off the too soft bed and stumbled to the Mac. As the computer booted up, I considered the titles on the large bookshelf. It was an odd mix of old and new titles: Brave New World, Reading in the Dark, Shakespeare... all intellectual reads. I was surprised to find some history textbooks on the shelf as well, covering a fairly wide time frame. There were essays on ancient Rome, Egypt, China; Renaissance writings and French Revolution memoirs; Treatises on World Wars I and II. The most interesting to me were the texts on Napoleon and the French Revolution: LaCroix was born during this time, and I was curious as to what sort of world he might have grown up in. The Mac, however, beckoned for my attention. I logged in to my mail.

Four new emails. Three from the Prince, which turned out to be files filled with more in depth knowledge on Jyhad, and more interestingly, on vampire lore. I would have to look at that later, as the fourth email popped out from the rest. It was from an unknown sender. With a trembling heart, I opened it.

Life after life,

Life, afterlife.

Soon,

one shall live unhappily ever after in un-life,  
and another shall take the path of the light.

Or so he thinks.

- A Friend.

I shook with silent alarm. This was the second creepy email I had received from this 'friend', and I didn't know what to do, or what this person wanted. But no matter how I reasoned, it just didn't seem like a good idea to tell LaCroix about it. I sighed and leaned back, digging the heels of my hands into my eyes. Exhaustion finally won over my wish to further contemplate, and so I moved the offending email to its rightful place in the folder I had placed the first email in. I would have to ponder this another day.

I slid back into bed, my mind full of fuzzy thoughts and odd speculations.  
_

Lydia Harrows smiled triumphantly to herself.

She had done it.

Four days she had been in L.A. Four days she had been handing out resumes and modeling portfolios to as many companies as possible. Finally, a magazine for fashion designs had deigned to hire her on to showcase their new 'flower power' feature for the next month. Lydia shivered in anticipation.

Finally, she would be getting out of that hell hole she called home. Lydia grinned exultantly at the prospect.

Mother didn't care. Father drank himself silly every night. Siblings broke and scattered every belonging she tried to keep safe. No one missed her if she went out for a few hours. Or for a few days. The only family member who had actually cared was her aunt, until she died three years ago in a car accident. Lydia touched the tattoo on her lower back, a crimson heart with a white ribbon held in front of it by two swallows. Her deceased aunt's name was scrawled on the ribbon with pretty, swirly letters.

Well, now she could earn some money, rent an apartment, and keep Alice company in the big, new city. Not that she needed company, especially considering that hot young billionaire she now lived with. Sebastian LaCroix. LaCroix... Wasn't that supposed to be pronounced "La-Cwah", instead of "La-Croy"?

Ah, whatever. He was hot, he was rich, and, more importantly, he gave Alice a place to start in the world, which was more than enough for Lydia to like him. Which, however, was completely opposite to Johnathan's sentiments towards the CEO of LaCroix Foundation. Lydia shook her head incredulously.

It was understandable that Johnathan would feel a bit jealous towards the guy. Hell, how could he not feel a bit outclassed next to the clean cut blond? However, there really was no contest, if Johnathan could only see. The way Alice looked at Johnathan... there was a love there that simply couldn't be done away with for a pair of cool blue eyes and a shiny black credit card. But of course, Johnathan, being a stubborn male, was now in the downstairs sports bar using a fake ID to guzzle down brew after brew. Lydia shook her head again, this time in disgust.

But now was the time to go celebrate, and so Lydia finished up her makeup, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door to the L.A. scene.  
_

"Another, sir?"

Johnathan Bane glanced up at the slightly blurry bartender and held out his glass for a refill.

Alice. Ah, Alice. Damn it all, who'd have thought that such a random turn of fate could land her with that rich kid up in the Ivory Tower, and simultaneously take her away from him? Johnathan glared into the glossy counter top.

He loved her. God DAMNIT he loved her! She was so wise, smart, beautiful, compassionate... and her eyes, he never quite got over those eyes. Deep, penetrating, knowing eyes, which he always got lost in when they lay or sat staring at each other. He fingered the black velvet box in his pocket, and through it, the silver, diamond topped engagement ring he'd bought several months ago. He knew they were a bit young to get be married, being straight out of high school, but he had hoped that she would agree to an extended engagement until they had enough money to start their lives. But that future was next to impossible, now. With a small, wet groan, he rested his head on his forearms in despair.

"Having a tough night, boy?"

Johnathan jerked up and looked to his right. Down at the end of the bar, a man in a heavy brown trench coat sat watching him. A scar stretched across his right eye, and five o'clock shadow was evident on his face. Greasy brown hair was pulled back in a pony tale, and the man carried an intensity around him that was a bit frightening, even from a distance. It was really hard to understand him, though, with his words garbled through a heavy German accent. Johnathan nodded slightly and placed his head back down on his arms, dirty blonde hair falling to cover his face. A chair screeched back and forth at the end of the bar, and heavy footsteps approached to end with more sounds of a chair being moved beside him. "Come, boy, tell me all about it." Johnathan, in spite of himself, felt grateful to spill his woes to this stranger. The man's hungry intensity grew as the boy told him all about the rich prick up in Venture Tower who had stolen his love away.  
_

Lydia danced.

The club music pounded in her ears, loud enough to make her heart thrum in time with the beat. Alcohol streamed through her, giving a heady, fuzzy feeling that was beautiful. The _Asp Hole_'s patrons moved around her, creating a constant flow.

Suddenly, out of the smoky darkness came a mysterious figure. Silent and dark, the figure moved close in front and began to dance.

The beat pounded. The lights flashed. The people laughed and moved. But throughout all this time, all Lydia was aware of was the man -for the figure was obviously a man,- dancing with her, to the beat, to the sound. It was sensuous, stimulating...

Lydia felt her cheeks and lower self warm to this man. He was so fluid, so tender, if only his face wasn't covered by that silly mask...

The man leaned forward, whispering into her ear:

"Would you like to go somewhere else?"

Lydia's sky blue eyes lit up in prospect of spending a night with this stranger. Alice had always warned her, don't go out with these people, you don't know them, or what they'll do. But Lydia, however much she loved and respected Alice, refused to listen. She'd taken those self defense classes, hadn't she? She could take care of herself. And besides, nothing bad ever happened.

"Someday, someones gonna hurt you, and you won't ever be the same." Alice had said, so often in Toronto.

But Alice wasn't here, wasn't she? She was up with LaCroix, in that little mansion in the sky. She didn't have to know about this.

With an alluring smile, Lydia nodded in response, and followed the stranger out the door.  
_

"What do you mean, LaCroix's a vampire?"

Johnathan's voice boomed loudly in the empty sports bar, alcohol upping his volume. He broke into drunken laughter, much to the obvious outrage of the man in the trench coat. "Be quiet, fool," the man hissed. "They'll hunt you down and kill you if they think that their petty facade is in peril!" But Johnathan was beyond listening to the guy. "You're telling me, that my girlfriend, is in the clutches of a two hundred year old evil vampire? Give me a break, pal!" Johnathan roared with laughter. "FINE!" The stranger bellowed in rage. "Laugh, boy, laugh all you will! But God will show you, in time, the immortal evil in that man! On that day, you will believe, and you will come crawling to me, Grunfeld Bach, in search of aid. And all that time your love shall be pulled ever deeper into the embrace of a monster!" With a final snarl, the stranger turned on his heel and stormed out of the bar, with Johnathan howling at the bar still.  
_

Lydia lay back on the cheap motel bed, shivering and giggling as the man stretched out on top of her. Tender hands caressed her shoulders and sides, the cool leather of the mans shirt making her shudder. A sensuous whisper, a murmur, made her bite her lip in anticipation.

"I want to show you something."

Lydia continued to giggle, feeling excited as the man reached for the mask... and pulled it off...

Lydia lay stunned for an instant. Then screamed as a boil covered face and jagged fangs descended upon her.  
_

**morgan145: YAY! Another chapter done! And so soon!  
**

**And so begins Bloodlines, folks! I really, really hope I can add to the intrigue!**

**Can't wait to hear what you all think!  
**


	10. Camarilla Law

A sharp rapping jolted me out of a pleasant, if strange dream.

Groggily, and with great confusion, I sat up and glanced at the clock. It was three thirty in the morning. The rapping noise sounded again, this time more urgent. It took me a second to realize it was coming from the door. With a groan I pulled myself on the bed, than cursed myself for forgetting my slippers were on the other side of the bed as my feet hit the cold wooden floor. Again the rapping sounded as I hurried over, sounding impatient. I opened the door.

Bright, golden light spilled in, blinding me for an instant. As my eyes adjusted, the blurry figure in front of me resolved into LaCroix, who looked as if he was just in the process of reaching for the handle before he straightened up. I blinked owlishly, mumbling "Sir, whats going on?..." The vampire cut me off.

"Get dressed. You are to accompany me to a Kindred trial that begins in half an hour. We leave in twenty minutes."

Without another word, he turned smartly around and strode swiftly back down the hall and out of sight. His sense of urgency lent me incentive to move fast. Shutting the door, I flicked on the light and ran to the bathroom where I splashed my face with cold water to wake me up. I rushed over to the wardrobes, racing to find something appropriate. As I dressed into a sober black suit with a white camisole underneath, I contemplated my dream.

I had been walking alone down a dark, dark street. Brightly lit windows glowed on either side, but gave little light onto the street. I was confused, and scared, but also a little excited. I liked this dark road, it gave me strange purpose. But suddenly, I was not alone. Both Lydia and Johnathan were walking beside me, laughing and smiling. And in the strange ways of dreams, Lydia looked different, but how, I couldn't figure out. Johnathan beckoned me to a lit window, but I was afraid of the light. It would mean the end of something, but of what I couldn't say, only that I would miss it very dearly. Lydia was gently pulling me back into the street amidst Johnathan's cries for me to join him. It was when Lydia was about to say something when LaCroix's knocking had woken me up.

What did it all mean? A dream this direct had to mean something.

But I had not more time to think. Furiously I brushed my hair and pulled it back into a tight bun, looking every inch a Ventrue's ghoul. I rushed down the hallways, terrified at becoming lost and therefore being late. Luckily, I made it to the front door with two minutes to spare. LaCroix was there, pacing back and forth, looking absolutely furious. Instead of the massive Sheriff, several vampire body guards stood close by, glancing nervously at the fuming Prince. My arrival caused him to pull up short in mid-pace, his pale blue eyes raking my appearance. "Good." was all he said, his voice short and agitated. Eyebrows still knitted together, he stalked out the door with six bodyguards and a worried ghoul in tow.  
_

She felt so relaxed.

Every muscle on her body was limp, every last one. It felt _wondrous. _But there was something wrong with this.

She wasn't breathing.

Desperate for air, she drew breath... but felt no satisfaction, no relief, as oxygen flooded her lungs. Why didn't she feel any relief?

And her teeth, they felt odd. Too big, and sticking out almost away from her mouth. Her fingers were strange as well, too heavy, too long.

All of this was too weird. She had to wake up, find a mirror or something to figure out what was wrong. With an effort, she opened her eyes. And in stared horror at the greenish gray, boil covered limb that once was her arm.

She flung the covers off of her and sat bolt upright, catching sight of the monster that sat in the chair across from her. Her breath choked back in a sob of fear. And then something caught her eye.

A mirror.

Lydia Harrows screamed in terror at the hairless monster she found in the place of her reflection. And to her redoubled horror, the creature screamed as well.

She screamed until the door burst open and a wooden stake was driven into her heart.  
_

The Prince glowered into the dark streets of Los Angeles from the black limo. I shrank into my seat, doing my best to not draw attention to myself. Every squeak of the leather, every rustle of clothing, was an invite for him to turn his wrath on me. But at the same time I was curious as to what the hell was going on. What could put the cool headed Ventrue into such a simmering rage? Curiosity waged a war with fear. In the end, curiosity won, but caution warned me against being too brazen. At this point, anything could push him over the edge.

"Sir," I ventured, testing the waters of discussion. LaCroix spared me a sideways look, daring me to speak. I took a deep mental breath, and offered my query.

"Why are you so angry?"

LaCroix looked back at the window, let out an annoyed sigh, and turned to me, resting his elbows on his knees and gesturing briefly yet emphatically with his hands as he spoke. "You see Alice, there are those who believe that they are in favor of those in power, and that because they are in favor to those in power, they do not have to follow the law. No, they believe that they can get away with anything, that I'll just, blow it off, forgive them, ignore their transgressions, and everything will go on as it was before." He raised a pale fist, glaring at the floor and looking direly like he'd love to hit something. Then he suddenly got a hold of himself and sat up straight. He stared pensively towards the front of the vehicle. "Is it Vincent?" I asked. The old youth glanced sharply at me. "How did you know?" he demanded, to my alarm. I hastily put together a thought that was forming in my mind. "W-well, Vincent was just chosen as the new Nosferatu Primogen, a-and so considering your words, he seemed the most logical person, in my knowledge, to believe that he could do, do whatever he did." I looked away, not wanting to meet those icy eyes. I felt their stare on me for another instant before LaCroix looked away, out the window again. A small sigh issued from his fanged mouth. The limousine stopped in front of the green sign of the Nocturne theater.

"We're here." was all he said. With swift, sharp movements he exited the limo.  
_

Sebastian strode swiftly down the back hallway of the theater with the girl close behind him, silently berating himself for showing his rage. She was supposed to like him, not fear him! Not that fear wasn't useful at times, but right now he would rather cultivate a bond based on the idea that he was the only safe haven, saving fear for only the most dire situations. Perhaps he would keep tabs on her friends and remaining family. If things really got out of hand, well...

A few human lives were a small price to pay for the Old Soul's undying loyalty.  
_

As they entered the small room where the prisoners were being held, the Sheriff stepped forward to report. Sebastian listened intently to the massive creature's rumblings as the girl wandered over to where the prisoners lay staked. In the middle of the report, Sebastian felt his ear twitch at the briefest, most strange high pitched noise. He ignored it, but the next instant it happened again, except louder and a touch longer. The next moment brought a short high pitched scream that turned into sobs. He whirled around to find the Old Soul collapsed, holding a hand over her mouth as she divulged into hysterical tears. He bit back a snarl of annoyance. Now what? He rushed to her, but before he could speak, she pointed a shaking finger at the illegal fledgling Nosferatu and whimpered:

"It's Lydia! Oh my God, it's Lydia..."

Sebastian thought back. Lydia, who was Lydia... Oh yes, from the funeral. Lydia was... was...

Oh no. Oh no, no, no...

Staked on the cold pavement was Alice Kepler's best friend. And in the next hour, he was going to have to kill Lydia in front of her. Well, this was going to improve relations quite a bit, he thought sarcastically. Sebastian's mind raced as the girl continued to sob into his chest. In the next few moments, he would have to, somehow, explain this to her. And the moment came. With tearful eyes, she looked up at him. "Are you sure?" he asked, hoping against all hope that she was wrong. But she wasn't. "Y-yes, I'm sure." She pointed towards a spot on her back. "See? The heart tattoo? And where the artist made a mistake with the bird's beak, making it more curved than the others? And tried to cover it up with shading?" She whimpered like a thing in pain. "What did he do? What is this trial for? To punish him? For forcing her into... into what she is?" she cried. He resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. Here we go.

"Alice, Alice dear, you must listen to me. Vincent broke Camarilla law by Siring a Childe without my permission. For this, he will die. But, unfortunately, as his illegal progeny, I'm afraid that Lydia will have to suffer her Final Death along side him."

Sebastian watched in growing horror as the girl's face became paler and paler with each word, until he uttered the words "Final Death". With that, she cried out despite his attempts to hush her. "What? Why? It's not her fault he did this to her!" she practically shrieked into his over-sensitive ears. Then she began too simply whimper, begging "Please, please, don't, I'll do anything, anything..." Surreptitiously Sebastian glanced at his watch. There was no more time to deal with this. With a sigh, he motioned for a guard. "Take her back home to Venture Tower-" "No!" came her firm, if wobbly voice. Ancient eyes, now haunted, met his own. "No." she said again. "I have to see this." Miraculously her tears had dried up, and she wiped what remained with only slightly shaky hands. Sebastian eyed her doubtfully, but she seemed steady now, determined really. How had she learned such self control? Probably from some other, harder, life.

"Go then." he said. "Find yourself a seat among the others. And Alice?" She stopped. Turned.

"I'm sorry."

With a slow nod, she turned around and disappeared out the door.  
_

Stacey the Malkavian met me outside the door to the seating area. "Poor little widow, salty rivers have flowed down your pale visage." She brushed a hand tenderly down my face, mismatched eyes scanning my own. "Whats wrong? Did the cookie monster steal your snack? I'll bring you his head!" In spite of myself I almost laughed, stopped only by the realization that she was quite serious. "N-no." I stammered. "It's my friend..." Tears streamed down my face while I furiously wiped them away. Stacey frowned as if in thought. "Rose children. I need a Rosie, stat." she disappeared, quite literally vanished into thin air, making me start. A moment later Isabelle came through the door with Stacey close behind. "Flower Child to the rescue!" she declared, but then suddenly began to pace back and forth anxiously. Isabelle ignored her and came over to me. She looked fashionable in a fur coat and brown leather corset, her short red hair done up in black chop sticks. Pale arms encircled me while manicured nails ran through my hair. "Child, oh child, tell me what is so wrong," she crooned, her voice so lovely and tender it made me want to cry even more. Instead, I told her.

"Lydia, my closest, bestest friend in the whole wide world, she's a, a... oh God, she's a Nosferatu!" I cried, unable to contain my pain any longer. "Oh my dear! What a terrible, terrible tragedy! Oh my darling, you have my deepest sympathies." Sky blue eyes were all compassion. "Did Sebastian dearest not try to save poor Lydia? No? Well, darling, sweetheart, you must understand," Strong fingers and thumb gripped my chin gently so I would meet her gaze. "Mr. LaCroix is Prince, and sometimes, Princes have to do cruel things in order to help the community. "B-but, how is this h-helping?" I whimpered. The Toreador sighed. "Ah, child, if only you knew. There are so many of us who would like to change others to be like us, for many reasons both good and bad. So the Princes of each city must decide whether or not such people should come into this world. This keeps us from tearing apart the Masquerade with over breeding. However, it is the law that one must seek out a Prince's permission in order to Embrace a human. If one chooses to Embrace without the consent of authority, well..." she shook her head. "This is what happens."

I shivered. "But why does the fledgling have to die too? It's not her fault she's this way. She didn't have a choice in the matter." My voice was steadier now that I had voiced my grief filled opinions. Isabelle opened her mouth to speak again, but this time Stacey answered. "When potential Sire loves potential progeny very much (or something like that,) potential Sire may decide that his Final Death is a fine gift to his new Childe if it were let to un-live in a dark world. But without Sire there is only Caitiff, who like to wander around dodging cars and lifting dumpsters. In front of Kine. Therefore, Princelings must kill both so there is no temptation and so that our pretty porcelain masks stay un-cracked."

I began to see the point of this punishment. That didn't mean that I liked it though. I suppose that the Prince, however, didn't really have much of a choice in the matter either, and if he did he simply could not put it aside for a ghoul like me. But it didn't dull the pain and sadness I felt for the situation. Within this one week, I had lost my father, mother, and brother, and now I was about to lose my best friend. With a heavy heart, I dried my tears, thanked Isabelle and the Malkavian for their insight, and followed them out to take a seat in the audience.  
_

Sebastian felt his blackberry vibrate in his pocket, and opened up the text that popped up. And nearly laughed out loud in relief.

It said:

You owe me and the Malkavian. We just convinced  
your ghoul that it was perfectly OK that you kill her  
best friend.

-Izzy

Now feeling much better about having to share a care ride home with the girl, Sebastian took a steadying breath and walked down the hall to the stage.  
_

Lydia came to with the unpleasant sensation of something being removed from her chest. She was on her knees on a well lit stage. In the audience area sat a few dozen scattered people, though it was hard to see with the light shining directly into her strangely sensitive eyes. "Good evening." said a terribly familiar voice off to her right. She looked towards the source of the voice, and before she received a warning tug by her captor, the features of the blond speaker came into too sharp focus: Sebastian LaCroix. Normally Lydia's heart would be racing, but it seemed as though it, well, somehow wasn't even functioning. Great. But she'd have to figure it out later. Right now she had to figure out why the fuck the CEO of LaCroix Foundations was addressing a sketchy crowd of pale figures with a giant by his side.

The stage lights made her eyes hurt. Lydia squinted as she listened to the man speak. "My fellow Kindred. I apologize for interrupting any business or interfering with any prior engagements you may have had this evening. It is unfortunate that the event that gathers us here tonight is a troubling one. The laws that bind our society, the laws that are the fabric of our existence, have been broken." Lydia stared at Mr. LaCroix as he paced back and forth across the stage. What the hell was he talking about? What laws? Oh God, this better not be some sort of cult. Her eyes adjusted, Lydia stared into the crowd, curious to know who these witnesses were. They were a strange group made up of both sexes, a mix of rebels, refined business people, model-like beauties and, to her strange relief, creatures that looked not unlike herself or the man beside her. Who was he? What had he got her into? It struck an odd chord of regret in Lydia that she didn't even know his name.

LaCroix went on. "As Prince, I am within my rights to grant or deny the privilege of Siring. Many of you have come to me seeking my permission, and I have endorsed some of these requests." He returned across the stage and stopped off to the left of Lydia. "However, the accused that sits before you tonight did not receive my permission. Indeed, my permission was never sought at all. They were caught shortly after the Embrace of this Childe." A pale hand swept in her direction. A small, indignant and outraged thought ran through Lydia's mind, cutting through her fear and confusion: the man spoke as if Lydia had purposely been doing something wrong. But she hadn't 'done' anything; whatever the stranger had done to her was not _her_ fault!

"While it, pains me, to announce the sentence, as up to tonight I considered the accused a loyal and upstanding member of our organization. But as some of you may know, the penalty for this transgression is death." LaCroix looked imploringly out into the crowd. "Know that I am no more a judicature than a servant to the law that governs us all. Let tonight's proceedings serve as a reminder that we must adhere to law that binds, lest we endanger all of our blood." With this last bit, LaCroix turned and knelt in front of that, that thing that had made her this way. Two words, a low whisper:

"Forgive me."

The CEO stood up. "Let the penalty commence"

Lydia watched in horror as the giant beside the stranger drew his massive sword, raised it up, and brought it down on the neck of the stranger. It all seemed to happen in slow motion: the sword sliding through the air, the skin of the neck pinching as the the blade met flesh, and the way that the head seemed to slide off the body and bounce, before (to her shock) body and head disappeared in a flurry of cinders. She felt as if she was about to be sick, and as she looked away, another familiar face jolted her back into reality.

Alice Kepler was sitting in the front row, looking almost as sick as she felt.

Lydia's first instinct was to call out. Maybe she could make sense of this. But common sense stayed her voice.

"Which leads to the fate of the ill-begotten progeny." LaCroix went on. He didn't even look back on the execution. "Without a Sire, most Childer wander the earth never knowing their place, their responsibilities, and more importantly, the rules they must obey. Therefore, I have decided that-"

"THIS IS BULLSHIT!"

A man stood up in the crowd. He was extremely buff, and not too bad of a looker, Lydia decided as he wriggled back in forth in the grip of whom she assumed were his friends. Other people began to stand, some looking angry, some looking bewildered, and some looking as if they were overeager to see what LaCroix would do next. Lydia was just as anxious to know. In the back, someone laughed uproariously. LaCroix looked down, as if in thought, before he spoke again. "If, Mr. Rodriguez would let me finish, I have decided to let this Kindred live." An exhalation of breath, sounding like terrible relief: Alice, looking like she just realized that a bomb was a dud when the timer ran out and there was no explosion. With terrible clarity, Lydia realized something: she almost died tonight, if not for that fateful instant. She tried to see more of her defender, but he had already turned and left with his small coterie of friends. LaCroix finished his speech.

"Let no one say that I am unsympathetic to plights of those in our community. I thank you all for attending these proceedings, and hope that their meaning is not lost. Good evening."  
_

**morgan145: Hello all! With the conclusion of this chapter, Lydia has survived the Trial and now we can more of less get on with the true-er story. Thank you SpecialAgentOrange for your insightful review once again, and a thank you goes out to Anime Fan Team for their simple but nice 'awesome work' comment. These reviews mean a lot it means that people are reading and paying attention to my story! And a final thank you goes out to all you silent readers, as always I hope that I can keep you all interested, though it would be nice to hear from you all!**

**UPDATE: just changed how Alice feels about the situation, from completely forgiving to "I understand it but I don't like it" sort of attitude. Honestly, did I really think Alice would let him off that easy?  
**


	11. A True Farewell to an Old Life

Lydia sat in front of the bathroom mirror in the grungy Santa Monica apartment, tears of crimson running down her face.

Her hair, so silky and shiny, such a beautiful brown-gold color, was gone. Not even a lock left to hold as a memento. Her teeth, once white teeth perfected by years of braces, were now jagged stalactites that jutted grotesquely from her mouth. Soft, peach skin was replaced with a greenish gray leather, with boils spotting her body that contained a disgusting, murky pus when burst. She reached up to yet again wipe away another bloody tear, only to scratch her cheek with one of her long, needle sharp claws. Lydia emitted a gurgling sound of frustration and pain as she reached for another clean ex. Within moments, the scratch had healed, leaving her face un-scarred.

She supposed that that was one thing she liked about being a vampire, though what the fuck kind of vampire she was supposed to be, Lydia didn't know. She guessed it had to do with her Clan... what was it again? Oh right. Nosferatu. But vampires were supposed to be pretty, sexy, and just plain cool, not this disgusting monster who couldn't go out in public for fear of breaking that "Masquerade" shit. That Smiling Jack guy, who helped her out after the theater, put it into perfect perspective: "And you, my fugly friend, are gonna have it extra hard. With a little effort, most of us can blend in okay." Dark eyes raked her form. "But if one sighting of your ugly ass hits the internet, its all over. There's a reason why most Nosferatu smell like a sewer." He jerked a thumb towards a manhole cover.

"Figure it out."

And so she did. For the whole fucking night, she traipsed around the back alleys of downtown L.A., learning the ropes from a presumably fairly old vampire that looked and smelled like a bum. He seemed nice though, constantly joking, so that helped to lift her spirits somewhat. It was hard enough getting used to this whole other world as it is. Lydia thought back to the 'trial' (execution was more like it). She'd felt so numb, afterward, following LaCroix down the passage to the back door. She tried to ask to see Alice, but an imperious hand silenced her. It was after that that Mr. LaCroix began his little lecture, on how there were certain rules she needed to follow, and how by letting her live he was now directly responsible for her actions. It was as if she was a burden, an annoyance, though he didn't say so outright. At the end, he told her that she may see Alice when she made it back to L.A. proper. Then, without further ado, he opened the door and ushered her out into the filthy dark alley, where Lydia then met Jack.

But there were still many questions floating around in her head: Who was Mr. LaCroix? What was the Camarilla? Just what the hell had she become? Who was that who did this to her? And, most importantly, what was Alice's role in all this?

She glanced at the clock. Five AM. The sun would be up soon. With a sigh, she moved to put the boards in place, fitting them snugly over the windows. Another annoying fact about being a vampire: she would never again be able to step out into the sun. "The Sun? Well, catch a sunrise and its all over, you got me?" the bearded vamp had said. Lydia worried a bit that maybe there might be a crack in the wood or something, and burned to death while she slept, so she hung a heavy curtain she found lying around the small room. With a groan, she lay down on the bed, for fun crossing her arms over her chest, and slipped into a dreamless sleep.  
_

I settled inside the limo, and allowed a small moan of relief to escape my lungs.

Lydia was spared. Against all odds, she was allowed to live for another night. I didn't know who that stranger was, but I direly wished that I could thank him. If it wasn't for him, LaCroix would have executed Lydia, and who knows what that would have done to my admittedly fragile emotional state. I would have to ask LaCroix; the Prince probably knew who he was.

Speaking of, where was he? I was told to go wait inside the limo while he finished up some business, before he walked away with Lydia in tow. I looked out the window, searching the dark for his form. Suddenly, there was a strange sound, a sort of RATATATAT from in the distance. I sat stock still. Was that... gunfire?

The door to the theater burst open, and the group of vampire body guards that were with LaCroix earlier tonight came out and took up defensive positions around the area, semiautomatics pointed out into the dark. Then, without warning, a group of motley looking men charged into the scene, firing uzi's and swinging tire irons and baseball bats, howling like things possessed. I hid behind the door, praying that the limo was bullet proof. I could tell they were all vampires, though I don't know why; maybe it was in the way that they all seemed to move too quick, seemed to strike too hard. At one point, the massive Sheriff appeared, and lumbered through an opening in the fence. LaCroix came out right behind him, and walked calmly towards the limo amidst the battle raging around him.

An assailant broke away from the fight, and made a beeline towards LaCroix, screaming and waving a tire iron. With deadly calm, the Prince stopped, reached under his suit jacket, pulled out a Dessert Eagle pistol, smoothly leveled the gun at the vampire's face, and fired once. The creature disappeared in a small cloud of dust.

I was stunned. This was the second time I had ever seen a vampire actually die, and the question of what happens when they die was answered. But I thought that bullets didn't do that to a vampire?

The limo door opened, and LaCroix slid in next to me, looking like business as usual. It took him a second to notice my staring. He sighed. "Look, Alice, I am sorry that I couldn't save her by any other way. I truly wish that I could have bent the law in some way in order to save you the pain, but there was nothing I could do." I nodded slowly. Yes, I understood that he couldn't just ignore the laws of his society for my sake. That didn't mean that there wasn't a small, niggling grain of hurt that he didn't anyways. I pushed that thought away, disgusted by my childish bitterness. Besides, I had another question to ask.

"Sir, I thought you said that bullets didn't matter to vampires like it did to humans, even if you were shot in the head." I said, my head slightly tilting to the side in puzzlement. LaCroix stopped fidgeting with something in his pocket and looked up, favoring me with a small boyish smirk. He reached under his jacket and pulled out the gun. With a click, the magazine slid out of the handle, and with deft hands he unloaded a single bullet. It didn't seem out of the ordinary, until LaCroix tapped the head of the bullet. "This is a phosphorous round, also known as an antipersonnel round. When fired, the phosphorous is ignited, creating a burning projectile that causes quite a bit of pain on impact. As you may remember, vampires are severely vulnerable to fire, so such ammunition causes quite a bit of damage to Kindred, and can even be deadly, as you saw." He replaced the bullet and rammed the magazine back into place, then replaced the gun back under his jacket. "Many of my Clan tend to favor guns, and most often stick to this sort of ammunition. So keep in mind, if ever you see one of my kind struck down by a single bullet, either it was severely wounded, or its attacker was using phosphorous." The Prince leaned forward and tapped the window, and the limo moved forward, towards home.

As we sped down the dark street, LaCroix spoke suddenly. "I suppose Lydia's family will have to be informed of her disappearance." "Inform Johnathan, but I wouldn't worry too much about her family." I said, still staring out the window. "Why ever not? Surely her family are the first people who should be notified." he said, rather incredulously. I sighed. "Mr. LaCroix, Lydia once snuck out of her house for a month. A full month. She skipped school, stayed with friends, and hung out in shady areas. When she finally decided to go back, I went with her." I looked squarely at the Prince. "The first thing and last thing her mother said to her while watching soap operas was: do the dishes, then go upstairs and clean your room." I shivered at the memory. "Her mother didn't even look up from the T.V., and when Lydia told her she'd been gone for a month, all that was said was: oh. okay. So if you need to tell someone about Lydia's 'disappearance', tell Johnathan. He'll be the only one who'll care."

LaCroix stared at me for a moment, then nodded and returned to brooding on his side of the car.

When we got home to Venture Tower, LaCroix stopped me in the main foyer of the penthouse. He placed a hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. "Tonight's proceedings must have been hard on you, and I admire and appreciate your ability to understand why I couldn't spare your friend any other way. I've decided to postpone your weapons training until this evening so that you may get some much needed rest. But before you go, I have but one request." He took a small, deep breath, as if whatever was next was difficult to say. "Alice, I must ask that you avoid contact with Lydia, at least for now. She has a lot to get used to, and, believe it or not, it is better that she figure some of it out for herself. I have sent her to Santa Monica so that she may complete an important mission. When she gets back to L.A., then you may speak with her whenever you like. Until then, please, avoid answering any texts, calls, or emails. Can you do that for me?"

I nodded, slowly. For once I didn't agree with the Prince, but I would obey. Secretly, though, I amended the command with my own: Contact only in emergencies. Thats it. With a resigned nod, I turned to leave, only to find myself suddenly pulled into a surprise embrace from LaCroix. I stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do. After a moment he let go, but not before he breathed, "For the final time, I am sorry." By the time I had straightened up, he was back to his usual stately posture. "Goodnight, Alice." "Goodnight, Mr. LaCroix." I replied, a little shaken by this encounter. I turned and hurried away before anything else as strange happened to me. I wasn't sure if I could even take this much.  
_

**morgan145: Hello everyone! another chapter finished, a little bit of a slower one to balance out the pace, though we do get to see LaCroix put on his badass side for an instant. Then again, he technically should never have to defend himself when he has a multitude of bodygaurds. ALSO, never fear, mushy moment between LaCroix and Alice is nothing more than the Prince being up to his usual tricks.**

**A big thank you to all you silent readers! Remember, feel free to review, I'd like to know what you all think!  
**


	12. A Dark and Stormy Night

Sebastian sat at his bedroom desk, furiously going through paperwork and hoping to get some of it done before torpor set in. Some of it concerned his prized company, while the rest had to do with vampire society. He pressed his lips tightly together in annoyance at some of the petty problems that managed to make their presence known to him. Lets see... there was that brutal serial killer down in Santa Monica, who had lately torn up some local man and strung him up for all to see on the Pier. It was obviously the work of one of the Kindred, most likely some Caitiff mutt out for revenge against those who had bullied him in high school. Sebastian grimaced in distaste: it was sloppy work, to be sure. Murder no longer disturbed him; he had survived bloody Waterloo, after all. But the least this butcher could do was exercise a bit of self control. With a light exhale, Sebastian signed the report with his brief yet flourishing signature.

Tonight, there was that Sabbat incident, with a local gang witnessing some shovelheads breaking into a warehouse basement. He had been told that the fledgling herself had dealt with that, which pleased him slightly. However he still refused to refer to that major inconvenience by name. It was frustrating, having to execute a popular member of the Camarilla in front of a dissident crowd, not to mention almost having to kill the Old Soul's best friend.

A half hour later found him getting settled to rest, but right before he had slid into torpor for the day, the phone rang, causing the already tired Prince to have to fight his way out of near comatose sleep, scramble out of bed, and race to his desk to pick up the damn contraption.

Who else was it but Strauss, wondering if that indeed was Alice Kepler at the trial sitting a few rows from the front. Sebastian answered yes, it was her, hoping against hope that it would be a short conversation. But of course, it wasn't, and Sebastian stood there while Strauss went on and on about how intriguing she was. Her aura was apparently an indigo blue, a color normally found on people of old age, which of course confirmed her as an Old Soul. But then the bloody mage just had to notice that the girl was also very upset, 'distressed', he had called it. And of course the Prince was forced to explain why. At first there was silence on the line. Then:

"You had her watch."

It wasn't a question, or a demand. Just a statement, delivered in cold, sharp syllables that jabbed at LaCroix, making him rise into a fury. With a herculean effort, LaCroix kept himself civil. "I told her to go back to Venture, but she insisted that she needed to see this." Sebastian barely kept his voice from a hiss. How dare this cainite speak to him so?

A low exhalation of breath sounded over the line. "Of course she did." came the weary response. "Her kind usually have a tendency to want to see significant things, good or bad. It's always all a part of their complex, grand scheme of learning." Sebastian, sensing a small tidbit of info, grabbed a pen and pulled out a small black notebook from within his desk. Flipping through the cream colored pages, he found some space and wrote:

_Complex Grand Scheme of Learning_

With a deft wrist movement he circled the phrase and placed a question mark beside it. With another jerk, he made a straight line going away from the circle, then wrote beside the line _"Wishes to witness important things." _

The Tremere's next query caught him off guard and almost left him sputtering with indignation. "Have you yet discussed with her the circumstances of her rescue?" "Why, no, indeed I have not. There simply hasn't been time to explain between her family's funeral, the trial, and her training." He practically spat into the phone, each syllable sliding past his fangs with icy sharpness. Had ritual incense addled the wizards brain? Did Strauss not see why he could not just tell all about their arrangement? What a wonderful conversation that would be: _"Oh, by the way, Alice, I knew all about you before you ever came to L.A. In fact, myself and another powerful vampire that you've never met have a little arrangement that involves you becoming my secret counselor and being studied like some exotic creature from time to time. Why? Simply because you are living proof of life after death. More sugar with your tea, child?"_

The silence that followed this brief outburst made Prince L.A. choke back his rage, for a moment thinking that the Regent had hung up on him. Then: "I see. I apologize for my impatience. Indeed, the past week and a half would have by far been the worst time to bring this to light." Sebastian frowned, surprised at this apparent moment of understanding, narrowing his eyes in Ventrue suspicion. Why this sudden show of remorse? "However," Strauss continued, "I suggest you tell her soon. It won't be long before she sees that every other ghoul seems to have been recruited for a more specific purpose."

With a click, the line went dead, without so much as a farewell.

The phone found itself ripped from the desk and whipped across the room with supernatural strength, shattering into shards of plastic as it connected with the far wall, accompanied by the sound of an enraged animal snarl.  
_

_Twelve hours later..._  
_

The huge boat rolled and pitched, nearly tossing the young Ventrue to the ground. Vampiric balance and reflexes saved him. Having to pick himself up off the Elizabeth Dane's deck would not do well in impressing the nosy police and terrified crew into believing in his disguise as an FBI agent, thought Matthew Bailey, who then rolled his eyes to the heavens. As if that role wasn't cliched enough. Couldn't LaCroix's minions have found something just a bit more original?

The blackberry in his trench coat pocket vibrated. Glancing around to ensure privacy, he dug around in his pocket and pulled out the device. With a few deft movements, the message screen was accessed.

he spoke of it. we listened for it. i witness it, in all its terrible glory.  
- J!

Matthew frowned, annoyed at Joelle's Malkavian need to speak in riddles. But this time the message was clear. The Ankaran Sarcophagus had been found. He shot back a quick text, asking Joelle what exactly he had seen. As he waited, he considered his current position in life.

He had grown up always expecting things on silver platter, and with good reason. The only son of a wealthy mining tycoon, Matthew Carson was given everything he could ever want: cars, toys, friends, anything, so long as he did nothing to endanger his father's company. But then, in the middle of a $400,000 education at Harvard, Matthew messed up. He remembered the police, the crying parents, the broken body of a little girl after she had decided to run across the street to her mommy just as he took the corner far, far too fast, his speed lubricated by too many beers... The newspaper headlines screaming for his reputational blood, his father, pounding the desk, shouting how Matthew had to learn to be more disciplined, how he had to start taking life more seriously...

And so, the formerly spoilt rich kid was sent to West Point. What changes in lifestyle! Suddenly, he found himself in a cramped bunk at a militarized University instead of a cushy dorm at Harvard. The screams and hard PT were intimidating at first, but over time they hardened both his body and his mind. Four years and a graduation later, the West Point alumni decided to get a low level internship in his father's administrative office in New York. He felt he ought to learn the basic operations of the company, considering he was going to have to manage it one day. It was there he met Jane. Another hard working intern like himself, Matthew and Jane quickly formed a friendship, and for the first time, Matthew had a true friend. Her family was as rich as his own, and had no business interest in his father's company, so for once he didn't have to put up with the bullshitting that comes with bought company. In fact, Jane was a brutally honest young woman, a trait which acted as a breath of fresh air for a man weary of white lies. Then came that night, not five years ago, when both their lives changed forever.

Thomas Bailey was a popular man at the office, though he seemed to only be at his desk in the evening. Everyone spoke well of him, which was no surprise; the clean cut, mid forties man was a charmer, who always made a point of speaking to everyone at some point or another. One of the high executives of his father's company, Matthew knew the man fairly well through many company social occasions, and was happy to call Mr. Bailey his boss. One night, Mr. Bailey called Matthew and Jane into his private office. "It's been a long, tough year for this company," the black haired man began, touching the tips of his dark fingers together. "I have been through many tight situations in the past while, but now I find myself safely on the other side off the battlefield, thanks to your dedicated work." the young interns chest's puffed up with pride. Brown eyes scanned their faces, creased with a friendly warmth. "And so, a little fancy has been running through my mind lately: a dinner, just for the three of us, in my home in Upper East Side in Manhattan. What do you say?" Of course they said yes. How could they refuse such a kind offer? With a date set, the two interns left Mr. Bailey's office brimming with excitement.

The appointed evening came, and both Matthew and Jane arrived on time, punctual, as usual. An old housemaid greeted them at the polished oak door of the massive Gothic style mansion, and lead them through increasingly beautiful old halls filled with paintings, book cases, and sculptures of all kinds. Finally, they came upon the dining room, where Mr. Bailey sat at the head of a long, mahogany table where two places were set on either side of him. As they both settled into their chairs, they were greeted with four fateful words: "And so, we begin."

The next thing Matthew knew, the older man was feasting on Jane's neck.

He wanted to stop it, wanted to help, but just before this, Mr. Bailey had told him to watch. And no matter what he thought, Matthew just couldn't make himself disobey. After a time, the monster dropped Jane's lifeless body to the floor and turned on him.

The pain was so intense that he blacked out.

When he woke up, he was lying in a luxurious bed beside Jane, who was already awake, feeling strangely relaxed, and thirsty. Mr. Bailey sat in a leather chair at the foot of bed, watching them like a cat watches cornered mice. As soon as they sat up, Mr. Bailey began to enlighten them as to what they had become.

It was now three years since then. Matthew remembered the first doubtful months of vampirehood, learning the in's and out's of Jyhad and the Masquerade. It was frightening at first, figuring out how to control his blood lust, trying to orient his schedule around night time hours, and how to use his disciplines, Not to mention making connections among the supernatural.

He still kept in touch with his family, but only occasionally. He wanted to make sure he would still have his fathers company later on, after all. But it was hard, lying to his parents, making up every excuse under the moon as to why he never visited more often or earlier in the day. Fortunately for him, though, it would end soon. His fathers health was waning, and his mother wasn't doing so great either. This is what scared him most about being a vampire, however: the fact that he would consider his parents continued life to be an annoyance, and to be happy about their approaching demise. It shocked him how he could be so unbelievably... inhuman.

Ah, no matter. All he could do was do his best to retain what humanity he had. It would have to be enough. Right?

The blackberry buzzed again, causing the Ventrue to start out of his reminiscing. He opened the message, and frowned.

red hand prints reach out from under the lid  
to form pretty patterns all over ruinous images.  
Wolfy's nose finds strangeness in the gore.  
Wolfy's mouth unsure of ancient words.  
-J!

Matthew read the message again, then closed the phone with a small sigh and a curious twist of his lips. Andreas had come with them to double check what the Malkavian had found, in case some vision twisted his sight. Unfortunately, the Gangrel didn't have or want a phone, so Matthew couldn't double check right then. They would have to discuss it on the way back to Venture Tower. Having done their job, the Ventrue quickly texted back "head home", signaling the end of the reconnaissance for the two vampires a few decks below. As soon as he put the blackberry back in his pocket, he heard footsteps approaching behind him and turned to look. A frightened sailor and a rather green faced police officer stepped their ways carefully over the blood that seemed to have been poured over the decks and walls of the ship.

They handed him the ship manifest as well as the official police report, then suddenly found themselves looking around, dazed and confused, and, more importantly, having no memory of a blond man in a black coat who had stood there not a moment ago.  
_

The blaring sound of a radio commercial woke Lydia with a start: "Friggin' Chicken. It's f*BEEP* awesome!..." With a groan, Lydia rolled over, and promptly fell out of bed with a thump. Scrambling to her feet feeling, she looked around the shitty apartment, realizing, to her severe disappointment, that last night wasn't just a bad dream. With a moan, she sat down hard on the lumpy bed, holding her bald head with clawed hands.

Why did this have to happen to her? What did she ever do to deserve this?

Lydia spent the next few moments wallowing in self pity. What brought her out of it was a nagging need, a feeling in her dead throat. Thirst. With a sigh, she got up and walked over to the crummy old fridge, trying hard not to slip and slide on the tile because of her clawed toes. She opened the door, and was both relieved and disappointed: three bags of blood sat in the fridge. A single bag would be enough to satisfy her cravings, but only for a little while. This pitiful supply would not last her long. With yet another sigh, she reached down, grabbed a bag, and shut the door. Lydia looked around the apartment for some scissors, for neatness sake, but there wasn't even that kicking around her dwelling, or Haven, the driver had called it. With a rueful look, she pointed a claw and sliced the bag neatly across the top, creating an opening big enough for her mouth. But as the scent of the blood wafted up to her nose, instinct took over and Lydia found herself sucking greedily at the bag like a baby at a mother's teat.

She had always thought that she would be reluctant to drink blood at first, that it would appear gross and revolting before her. Was she ever wrong. The blood was like an ice cold pop on a hot day, and a cup of hot chocolate after a freezing blizzard. As fast working as speed and as mellowing as marijuana. And it was as normal to her as eating a tasty snack or drinking a milkshake. When the bag was done, Lydia watched, mesmerized, as a single ruby drop traveled down the length of the bag all the way to the corner, where it dripped thickly into the sink. Shaking herself free of her trance, Lydia washed out the bag and went to throw it out. But when she opened the cupboard door that held the garbage can, she ended up ripping it off its hinges. "Fuck..." she muttered, setting the door down on the floor. She still wasn't used to her incredible strength. Though it was pretty satisfying to see that Sabbat runt get kicked into the wall, the young Nosferatu thought with relish. What was even cooler was the fact that she could be even stronger whenever she wanted. All she had to do was concentrate, _need_ to become stronger... and voila! Unreal strength and power would flow through her arms, making her feel nearly unstoppable. What was that called again? Ah, right, Potence. A vampiric discipline, one of the abilities of her clan. And then there was that other thing she could do... "...Blood Buff. It's like 'roids and focus pills all in a massive boost of blood. Don't use it to much though, kiddo, or you'll find yourself starving for blood real quick." That was Jack, both joking and serious at the same time.

As promised, she always got thirsty after using it, but that was easily fixed. Lydia licked her chapped lips in memory of that first taste of blood in the alley, off of that rich guy who'd 'lost' his car. Damn, he was good. And now to some business that needed attending to. She stood up and a walked over to the door. For a moment, she contemplated checking her email, and thought better of it. Before she left, she grabbed the money that was left for her and another bag of blood to have later. Then, with feet falling silently on the wooden floor, she slipped out of her new home._  
__

I awoke late in the afternoon, groaning from sore muscles accumulated from the day before. With an effort, I rolled onto my side and checked my phone on the bedside table for any new messages. Sure enough, I had received the dreaded text from Johnathan.

hey hun, had the weirdest convo with some creepy dude at the bar last night.  
got a real bad hangover too. so... lydia isn't back yet. should i worry, or do you  
think i'll catch her hanging out with some guy later like we did the day after grad?  
anywho, gonna go out and do some sight seeing. Wish you were here, hope you  
have a nice day in the Ivory Tower.

With a sad, rueful smile, I put down the phone and _stretched_, joints popping with the strain. A rumbling tummy added incentive to getting out of bed. I slipped on a red robe over my silk pajamas, and finally remembered to put slippers on my feet before I set them down on the cold wooden floor. I swiftly padded to the kitchen, where to my pleasant surprise I found Mercurio. He looked up from drinking what looked like coffee, raising his eyebrows in acknowledgment of my presence. Setting his cup down, he leaned back on the counter and crossed his arms. "Hey, kiddo, how'd ya sleep? Hear you had a little excitement last night." I snorted. Excitement? Is that what you called hoping to God that some stray bullet wasn't going to end your existence? "Such bloodshed is not what I would call 'excitement'. Unlike some, I hold my safety in high regard." I said before I could stop myself. Damn it, I did it again! I braced for a slight awkward silence, but to my surprise (and relief) Mercurio just chuckled and said "A little poetic tonight, kid?" I let out a low sigh that ended in a yawn.

With another chuckle Mercurio grabbed another cup off the counter and placed it on the table in front of me. The wonderful smell of coffee wafted up to my nostrils. I took a sip... and nearly spat it out. I rarely ever drank coffee; the stuff was usually too bitter for me. But whatever was in the cup seemed to shrivel the insides of my mouth. When I regained my composure, I noticed Mercurio giving me a wry smile. "Yea... ghoul taste buds are a little too strong for straight black coffee." A white porcelain bowl and a small pitcher of milk were pushed towards me, which I immediately took advantage of. By the time I chanced another sip the coffee was a very pale brown with (many) heaping teaspoons of sugar in it. Even then my mouth still rebelled against my chosen drink. Mercurio checked his gold watch. "Actually kid, I'm just stoppin' by to tell ya I won't be taking you out to the gun club tonight. The Boss needs me to go pick up some equipment out in Santa Monica. But that don't mean your getting out of trainin'." the old ghoul gave me a mischievous look, and I suddenly became a little nervous. "So guess who's teaching ya basic of firearms? That's right, the man in charge himself. So you got a few hours before its time to go. Trainin' won't take long either; the man's a busy guy, so your lucky hes giving you an hour of his time to take you to Venture Gun Club." lake blue eyes rolled to the ceiling. "I swear this Tower's got everything." he muttered.

I nodded in agreement, feeling both excited and nervous at the same time. I also was a little confused. Apparently Prince LaCroix was always extremely busy, so why the hell does he always seem to find time to do mundane things such as take me to dinner or watch me kick box?

"Anyways kid, I gotta run." Mercurio clapped a worn hand on my shoulder as he passed by my chair. "Good luck."

I waited until he was gone before I slumped back into my chair, contemplating the mysteries laid before me.  
_

Rain was falling steadily outside, giving the world a shiny, cold look.

Sneaking out the apartment was easy for Lydia. Once you've slipped out of a two story building without rambunctious brats spotting you enough times, getting out of a mostly vacant apartment was simple stuff. The only cause for concern was that hobo just outside the door. But just as soon as she felt the need to hide, an odd yet familiar sensation crossed her dead skin.

_Obfuscate..._

Feeling as light as a breeze, an invisible Lydia passed through the wet alley undetected, droplets sliding her stiffened flesh and mixing with the ooze a recently burst boil on her arm. As soon as she left the alley, though, a stray puff of air passed her nostrils, bringing the sharp, metallic scent of blood along with it. Lydia took another sniff, trying to pinpoint the sensation. There, off to her right. Creeping around the corner, she chanced upon the distant sight of a figure pushing its way into a building. A memory brushed her consciousness: first, the email from LaCroix she read last night before sleep telling her to make haste to some guy named Mercurio. Then that note on the desk, supposedly from the agent himself. It said that his apartment was the next building over. Complying with the directions, the young Nosferatu moved down the street.

As she got closer, the scent, that delicious scent, got stronger. Eventually, Lydia could make out puddles of blood mixing with the rain water on the pavement, leading up to a black door with a "Santa Monica Suites" sign over top. The door looked like it was good quality, a clue to the expense of the place. Looking both ways for bystanders, Lydia pushed the door open to duck inside. As she did, she felt the breezy sensation of Obfuscate slide from her form. Stiffening, the fledgling scanned the area for witnesses, and luckily found none. She didn't know what she would do if she was spotted. Lydia remembered Jack's advice: "Kill an innocent, even a worthless bum, even by accident, and it's gonna cost you a piece of your humanity, and bring you a little closer to that Beast welling up inside ya." "Beast?" she had asked, feeling something stir beneath her breast even as she said the word. Jack's voice took on a rare, serious tone. "The Beast, it's always there. Sitting there, deep in your chest, just waiting for a chance to take over. And when it does, it's like an animal wearing your skin. It'll do anything to survive, and it's you who has to deal with whatever shit it stirred up." As they had continued on that dark alley, Lydia contemplated that monster just underneath her skin.

A loud crash and a curse startled her out of reverie. She hurried down the hall. Blood streaked the polished floor, giver her an easy path to follow. Apartment 4, apartment 4... Ah, here it is. Lydia stopped outside the double doors, noting with some concern the crimson stains all over the floor and handles. Pushing the door open, Lydia stepped into a scene of utter disaster.

The side table just beside the door was tipped over, it's lamp dumped to the floor. It provided the only light to the room, casting eerie shadows everywhere. Somewhere nearby, she could hear someone breathing heavily, but the lighting was fucking up her night vision so she couldn't see who. She felt for the light switch on the wall, found it, and flicked it on. As soon as she did a gunshot sounded, and a sort of dull pain flared into her awareness. She turned towards the source to see the smoking barrel of a revolver pointed towards her, before its owner slumped down against the side of the turquoise leather couch. The figure was male, and severely wounded. A huge gash stretched across his stomach, leaking a steady stream of gore.

Lydia's nose twitched. It smelled so _good, _so enticing. Come to think of it, she was a bit thirsty from using her discipline. Just a taste, a sip, that's all she would need...

With an alarming wrench, she pulled herself from that thought. What the hell was wrong with her? This guy needed help! She remembered Jack saying something about the subject, about her humanity... "Keep in touch with your humanity, kiddo, and don't go thirsty. It's a fine line, but its the only thing you got to keep that Beast chained up inside." Considering her current situation, Lydia decided that drinking from this man a) wouldn't get her anywhere and b) would definitely be detrimental her state of humanity, such as it was. But now was not the time to think about this!

The shape on the couch gurgled in pain, prompting the fledgling to rush to his side. As Lydia crouched down to his level, the man raised his head, causing a curtain on longish hair to fall across his haggard features. She hastily used a claw to pull it back, and was met full blast by a pair of lake blue eyes. They stared at her for a moment, widening in shock at first, then settling into relief. "Holy shit." the man growled out. Was that a New York accent she heard? "Jesus Christ, Nossie, you scared the shit outta me." the young Nosferatu felt a twinge of bitterness run through her as the man went on. "Sorry I shot ya. I thought those junkie pricks followed me back to my apartment. You alright?" "I-I'm okay, I guess." Lydia replied, finally cluing in that she had indeed been shot, and that she should find that important. She glanced at her wound, a rapidly closing hole the size of a quarter on the side of her arm. Something was being slowly pushed out. With care, she dug out the object, which turned out to be a bullet, and let it drop to the floor. Turning to the man, she said "But nevermind me, what the hell happened to you? Who did this?"

Mercurio chuckled grimly. "I overestimated my abilities. I needed some astrolite, so I found this guy, a chemist. Mixes his own speed and meth, occasionally does explosives. After about a week of checkin' them out, I thought they were pretty reliable. So I set up a drop..." The man cringed in pain for a moment. "Oh God, something just started leaking... I-I set up a drop. When I went to collect, they jumped me. The little bastards, hit me with a bat, knifed me... feels like I got a horse kick in it too." Suddenly Mercurio's eyes widened in a look of pure horror. "They got the money, they got the astrolite..." This time he seemed to curl in on himself in agony. Lydia stared at him, unsure of what to do. "Do you need me, uh, to call an ambulance or something?" "NO!" he cried, then seemed to cringe worse than ever from the pain. "No... no ambulances, no hospitals..." "But you're barely hanging on as it is!" Lydia exclaimed. "What did you do, crawl all the way back to your apartment?" "Well, I crawled to my car, then crawled my ass all the way back here... the vamp blood's all that's keeping me together..." "Vampire blood?" he sighed. "Oh right, your straight off the bus. Once a month, I get a bag of vampire blood to drink. It makes me faster... stronger than a normal human. I don't age, either." he gave an amused raise of his eyebrow. "I know I don't look it, but I'm almost sixty."

"You want me to give you some of my blood?" "No, no, that would be major breach in my contract. Can't drink any other vamp blood except what I get from the Boss up in Venture Tower." Lydia's eyebrows (or the spots where they should have been) shot up. "LaCroix? Do you mean LaCroix? Have you seen Alice?-"  
"How the hell do you know Alice?"  
"I've been friends with her since kindergarten. How is she-"

"Look, vamp, I'm lying in my own blood here," Mercurio cut in. "and I know your concerned about your friend, but can we please save this till later? I'll tell ya all about it later. Right now, just listen." the man's eye fluttered shut for an alarming moment, then reopened. "I need you to go get the astrolite back. There's this cabin, up on the cliff at the beach at the pier. That's where those assholes are based. Go... I dunno, go do whatever you people do, whatever it takes." His bloody fist smacked furiously into the couch. "I wanna kill 'em." for another alarming moment, Mercurio slumped over, and his breathing became dangerously shallow. Lydia listened for his heartbeat, which was becoming slower and fainter. Finally he seemed to come to.

Lydia was shocked that one could bear to stay conscious in spite of the pain. "Look, while I'm out, I'll try to find some painkillers or something. O.K. Mercurio? Just hold on." Lydia straightened up as the man nodded, and left the apartment in search of explosives, medicine, and answers.  
_

**morgan145: ah, another character building chapter. Ugh. Don't worry, my loyal readers to this crappy fanfic, I'm definitely going to pick up the pace during the next chapter.**

**Thank you once again to SpecialAgentOrange and Anime Fan Team for your comments!**

**You were right, SpecialAgentOrange, I WAS forgetting all about the other agents. Them poor vampires, they deserve some time in the spotlight too!  
**

**And a great big thanks to my readers of my, as I already mentioned, crappy fanfic. I hope I can improve it to make it more interesting!  
**


	13. Strange Coincidence

Lydia slipped out into the rain, forming Obfuscate around her the instant she stepped outside. The second she was hidden, the Nosferatu felt a sudden thirst assail her. Its grip was terrifyingly powerful. She felt like she was was going into withdrawal from some powerful drug. Her throat burned, she felt wobbly. All she was aware of was that she needed blood NOW.

Hurriedly she felt around her for that bag of blood she had saved. As soon as she found it, Lydia pierced the soft plastic and sucked greedily at the bag. But very quickly that was gone and Lydia found herself wanting more.

She stole down a nearby alleyway, sniffing out potential prey. A couple of rats skittered by her feet. In spite of her Clans ability to draw more nutrients from rodent blood, normally Lydia would have wanted to puke at the thought of putting one of those filthy things near her mouth. But right now all she was aware of was that they were full of life, that delicious liquid. She reached for one of the vermin... A puff of air caused her to freeze mid-motion.

Human. Coming this way. HIDE!

The thought was so quick that Lydia found herself reacting out of pure instinct. She dove behind a dumpster, stilling her own breath in an effort to keep quiet. Footsteps sloshed through the puddles. At this point, Lydia realized that Obfuscate had stopped working, and no matter how much she concentrated she couldn't get it back. She waited, hoping dearly that she wouldn't be seen. Maybe she could jump this guy, drink from him real quick and be off on her way. Just as long as he didn't get a glimpse of her. If he did...

Well, there was always a first time for everything. Even if it was murder.

As she sat behind the dumpster and listened, the footsteps drew closer. A moment later a dark figure appeared, hunched over in the cold rain. The Nosferatu analyzed her target, a sort of feral clarity coming over her. Distance, not too far away, one good jump should clear it. Element of surprise along with momentum should be enough to topple it, distracting it long enough for her jaws to close around the red sweetness...

Lydia braced herself against the dumpster, readying herself to leap. Then, just before she launched herself from her hiding place, a bit of street light touched the figure, and shock mixed with recognition flooded her, making her hesitate. Johnathan...?

The instant she recognized him, a dark blur came out of nowhere in front of Johnathan. The blur resolved into a person, who was pushing the boy deeper back into the alley. Then, quick as a thought, the newcomer grabbed the side of Johnathan's face and wrenched it aside, exposing his neck. Fangs flashed in the weak light, and Lydia watched in fascinated horror as the stranger began to feed on her friend. The man had short blond hair and wore a black trench coat. His facial features were refined, which reminded Lydia of LaCroix somehow.

After a second the man looked up, eyes widening a bit in surprise. He stepped away from Johnathan (who seemed to be in a sort of daze) while still gripping his shoulder firmly. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I steal your prey?" He said. With a pale hand, he gestured as if offering the boy to her. "After you. I can tell you are starving, and I doubt your keen on frenzying in the streets." Lydia again hesitated. Every sane and moral part of her was screaming at her to not do it. This was all kinds of wrong. It was Johnathan, for God's sake! She'd known him since high school; he was Alice's boyfriend! Surely he was more than just food.

But no matter how she reasoned, an overarching need to tear into Johnathan's neck swamped every shred of morality. Step by step, Lydia found herself coming closer to her friend, until finally her claws were gripping him the way the strangers had, with one hand on his shoulder and the other holding his head. The world seemed to throb around her to the beat of a heart. Johnathans heart. So close. So close that she could almost taste that red liquid flowing just beneath the skin...

Lydia couldn't hold back anymore. With a hungry growl she sank her jagged teeth deep into Johnathan's throat.  
_

Johnathan Bane came to his senses with a start. He was standing at the mouth of the alley he just came from. The weird thing about it was that he remembered going into the alley, but had no recollection of passing through. And now he was on the other side, dazed and confused. He gave himself shake and a mental slap. Idiot! What the hell was he thinking, letting his mind wander like that while going down an alley. He could have been jumped by some creep, and then he would have been screwed. Hell, Alice's family was fucking murdered in an alley like this one. Speaking of murder, Johnathan was feeling a little peeved at the closing of the Santa Monica Pier due to that murder investigation. It made him worry evermore about where the hell Lydia was. He hadn't expected to see her while he was sightseeing, but she still hadn't called him or texted him back about her whereabouts. He sighed. Typical Lydia.

But right now he just wanted to get back to his room, give Alice a call, and see how her day went. It was kind of weird that she hadn't answered his text that he sent earlier today. Ah well, she was probably just too busy learning the ropes of her new job.

Giving himself another shake, Johnathan continued on his way back to his cheap hotel room, stretching the sudden, odd kink his neck.  
_

Lydia let out a sigh of relief at Johnathan's receding figure. The stranger leaned against the alley wall, lighting a smoke. The flame lit up the darkness for as instant before the powerful scent of tobacco filled the confined space. Breathing out of large puff of smoke, the man spoke. "You should really try to keep from becoming that hungry, Fledgling." He drawled. "Next time there might not be someone to quench your thirst before it gets out of control." Lydia stared at the guy. "Who the hell are you? And what the fuck makes you think you can tell me this shit?" she demanded. The stranger raised an eyebrow, and considered his cigarette. "I am Matthew Baily, one of your new coworkers, and a vampire with a lot more seniority than you. I assume you are the 'infamous' Fledgling called Lydia?" "Yea. Whats it to you?" "Such manners. Especially towards one who's generosity just saved you from a Masquerade violation."

The Fledgling glared at him, but knew that he was right. "Sorry," she muttered. "It's just that... that was my friend we were just feeding on. I guess I got a little emotional over it." Matthew smirked a bit. "It's understandable. But for future reference, keep a eye on your thirst, and stick the sewers. It's easy to forget the tolls of Disciplines, but no one is going to be sympathetic after you blow their cover just because you're new. Do you follow what I'm saying? You're liable to be slaughtered in the streets for just one slip. Even I will be happy to bring you Final Death if you threaten the Masquerade. Now, if you need emergency blood, there's a clinic down the street with a blood bank in the basement. The Ghoul who runs the bank will sell you blood bags, though I warn you that they're not cheap. Do you have all that?"

Lydia felt a little faint. _"You're liable to be slaughtered in the streets for just one slip..."_ She knew fuck ups were serious, but the full gravity of her situation never really occurred to her until now. Somebody like her was probably in the worst nightmares of any supernatural, a creature that, more than anybody, had a responsibility to stay hidden. Obfuscate wasn't for traveling freely in the open. It was an emergency procedure for those times when she really didn't have a place to hide.

"Now," Matthew went on, "have you been to Mercurio's place yet?" "Y-yea... wait how do you about _that_?" For the first time the other vampire looked annoyed. "Did I not just say I am one of your coworkers? We work for the same boss. I was in the area, so he wanted me to check up on you. Obviously he would want me to make sure you were doing what you were supposed to, and to do that he would have to tell me what you were doing. So did you get the astrolite from him?" Lydia sputtered for an explanation.

"Something went wrong. He went to go get the astrolite, but the gang jumped him. They beat him almost to death, and took his money and the astrolite-"  
"What? Where is he now?"  
"His apartment... H-hes bleeding to death, and I need to get him some painkillers..."  
"The idiot! He knows those explosives are more important than his personal comfort."  
"NO! I decided to get him some painkillers. HE told me to get the astrolite back!"

The other vampire took this into consideration. "So you decided for yourself to get painkillers, along with getting the explosives back." "Yes!" Matthew frowned pensively. "Interesting..." "What?" "Oh nothing, just that most vampires wouldn't bother with painkillers. I suppose your heading to the clinic then?" Lydia nodded. "I'll be quick, and then I'll go straight to the beach." she hesitated. "But, I don't know where either of those places are. Um, can you help me? Please?" Matthew rolled his eyes. "Fine. The clinic is on just a few block down of to the left of Mercurio's place. Great big sign, you can't miss it. I believe there's alleyway beside it with a door to the bank, so it shouldn't be too hard to sneak inside. As for the beach, just go through the parking garage down the street, following the signs that point to the pier. The Pier itself is closed due to a police investigation, so you need to to take the stairs to the left. It'll bring you straight to the beach." Lydia smiled in appreciation. "Thanks, Matt. I owe you one" "Careful how you use that phrase, Fledgling. Most vampires will take it seriously. And it's Matthew, not Matt, thank you. And your welcome."

Lydia nodded and turned around. "By the way, Fledgling, about Mercurio's mishap... Do him a favor and don't mention it to the Prince. He has been a useful asset to the Camarilla, and to mention his blunder may result in his termination. This one mistake shouldn't cost him his life, don't you think?" The Nosferatu stopped in her tracks. Termination... God, these guys were nuts! "Alright, Matthew." She glanced over her shoulder at the reclining vampire. "And Matthew? It's Lydia, not Fledgling."

Without another word, she scampered out the alley.  
_

I stood outside the double doors to LaCroix's office, and checked my watch. 7:00 pm. I took a deep breath, and opened the door. The sight I was greeted with made me want to run back out again.

On the floor in front of LaCroix's desk knelt Stacey, clutching her head and shaking. Odd moans were issuing out of her mouth, forming half distinguishable words, though most didn't sound like English or any other language I know. The Prince stood behind the desk staring at the shaking Malkavian.

I moved toward Stacey, about to ask what was going on before LaCroix silenced me with an imperious raise of his hand without taking his pale blue eyes off of the vampiress. I stood stock still, waiting with growing apprehension. Finally the Malkavian spoke, but her words were more disjointed than usual, taking on odd pitches and tones.

_**"Crimson decks filled with terror and pain... Men of the Sea wash their brethren away with tears and Clorox..."**_

Sebastian spoke, his tone sharp and demanding. "And what of the Sarcophagus? What does Joelle see?" The Malkavian continued shakily on.

**_"Such pretty hand prints... like bloody children at a petting zoo... I wonder how they made them go inside and out?... Is that the Father, there on the hardness?... The red sweetness flows over his lips like Death's river..."_**

Alarm crossed the Prince's face in an instant. "Opened? Is this true? Tell me Malkavian, has the Sarcophagus been opened?"

The girl on the floor shook violently for another moment, then with a final rattling sigh, she stood up. "Negative, sir Prince, no dark vision obscures our own." LaCroix looked oddly relieved. "Thank you, Malkavian, you may-" "LITTLE WIDOW!" Stacey screamed while turning around, literally screamed, and raced over to where I was standing with outstretched arms and a huge smile, though her fangs dampened the welcoming gesture somewhat. Unfortunately for me, her black combat boots lost traction as she stopped her sprint, and with a strangled yelp her sliding momentum sent us crashing to the hard wooden floor (I have no idea how we managed to not land on the long carpet that I was standing on the whole time), winding me completely. As I wheezed out from underneath an otherwise unperturbed undead cheerleader, LaCroix strode over with a look on his face that was cross between annoyed and amused. He offered a pale hand to help me up, which I took gladly. The ease in which he pulled me to my feet unnerved a little; it was as if I was no lighter than a child.

With a giggle, Stacey clambered to her feet and proceeded to give me another strangling hug. "Sweet little widow, how I have missed you! I color the world with the hues of my madness, but you color my world with the power of your wisdom. I sit at your feet like a child to a grandmother."

LaCroix froze.

"Thanks," I gasped. Finally she let me go. As I got my breath back, I asked "So what was that all about just now? What were you doing on the floor?" The Malkavian suddenly looked shy, looking everywhere but me. I glanced at LaCroix, who seemed to have recovered from his apparent paralysis. "She was connecting to her brother, whom I sent on a reconnaissance mission to the Elizabeth Dane. Perhaps you've heard of it, that marooned ship just off of the Santa Monica Harbor?" When I shook my head no, the Prince continued. "The Elizabeth Dane is a cargo ship that was found off the coast of Santa Monica a few nights ago. When attempts to hail the vessel failed, the police boarded the Dane to find evidence of what looked like a slaughter, and yet they found no bodies or any survivors."

My eyes widened. "Was it- I mean, is it-" "Supernatural? We don't know, not yet. You see, the Dane was carrying some special cargo: The Ankaran Sarcophagus. It was discovered several months ago in Turkey, and since then vampire communities all over the world has been in an uproar about it." LaCroix strode over to his paper covered desk and sifted through the documents for a moment, until he found what he was looking for and returned. He handed me a photograph displaying a long stone rectangular box with strange carvings all over it. The box felt familiar somehow, like I knew every curve and crevice of the stone by heart. As I examined the picture, the Prince went on. "The Sarcophagus was on its way to the Los Angeles museum for study before its crew met their unfortunate ends. Due to the circumstances, I took the liberty of sending the Malkavian's brother Joelle along with Andreas and Matthew to Dane in order to investigate and hopefully debunk any and all superstitions of supernatural nature that have arisen concerning the Sarcophagus."

"It doesn't sound like anything was debunked, from what I heard." I said. LaCroix sighed, looking weary. "Unfortunately that is so. If anything all evidence points to the Sarcophagus - and whatever is in it - to being the culprit of the massacre." "Oh wow... so I guess the Masquerade is about to violated, and you are the one who is going to take the heat for it." "Yes." "Well, I guess the only thing you could do at this point is gather all the facts about the slaughter and try to fabricate an explanation to give to the media." LaCroix stared at me for a moment, and blood rushed to my cheeks. Who was I to give a Prince advice on how to rule his kingdom? Especially when that "advice" was a stupidly obvious solution. No doubt I just succeeded in insulting a 200 year old vampire's intelligence. I sputtered in embarrassment. "I-I'm sorry sir, I won't speak out of turn again."

To my surprise LaCroix laughed, his fangs glistening in the artificial light as he smiled. "My dear Alice, you truly amuse me sometimes. 'Speak out of turn'? I don't think I've heard that expression come from one of the kine in years, especially from one so young as you. And besides, what you said makes sense, and again I commend your concern for the Masquerade." I nodded my head in acknowledgment.

"So what was with the Malkavian when I walked in? Was she communicating with her brother somehow? Like telepathy?" "In a sense, yes. She was using the "Malkavian Madness Network" to search through Joelles memories and thoughts in order to give me a preliminary report on the situation." Well, that answers nothing, I thought somewhat glumly. "But what is it, exactly?"

"It's like the internet, without porn." said Stacey, evidently feeling left out. The Prince and I stared at her for a second as she absentmindedly chewed her fingernails and hummed quietly to herself.

At that moment, there was a sharp knock at the door, thankfully interrupting the awkward moment. Jane Bailey entered through the double doors, wearing a crisp white blouse and dark dress pants with a sheaf of papers in her arms. "Good evening, Prince LaCroix." came her greeting, which sounded, to my ears, just a touch above business friendly. "Ms. Bailey." was her return salutation from Sebastian, just a touch cooler than usual. My attention turned immediately to this subtle play. Behind Jane's back Stacey was rolling her dual colored eyes to the honeycombed ceiling. "The Sabbat are on the move again, changing their hideout, though we have yet to know where-" "I apologize, Ms. Bailey, but we'll have to discuss this later after I've taken Alice here to the gun club downstairs."

The look on Jane's face was one of disappointment attempting to hide under a veneer of professional understanding. With a nod, she deposited her stack of papers on LaCroix's desk and promptly left. As the Prince lead me out of his office, I wondered. What was that all about? Did Jane _like_ Sebastian? Could a vampire even like another vampire like that? I didn't know.

The elevator doors closed, and LaCroix and I dropped downwards towards the gun club.  
_

Jane shredded another napkin with her razor sharp nails.

That impertinent chit! Didn't she know that Prince LaCroix had better and more important things to do? If she had a lick of sense, she would have respectively declined his offer so that Sebastian could get back to ruling his city. No doubt the last thing a vampire Elder would have on their to-do list is teach a new ghoul how to not shoot herself in the foot.

And damn it all, LaCroix still didn't seem to notice any of her efforts on his behalf. Matthew said that she shouldn't expect much recognition from him at first, especially when she was doing behind-the-scenes work. He was right, but it still irked her to watch a lowly blood whore receive more attention, and affection, than she did. Not that LaCroix was a particularly warm, or even kind person. On the contrary. The man was as frigid as the Northern Pacific, and if one wasn't careful, they could very easily meet with their final end on his whim.

What was it about this girl that LaCroix was so interested in? He hadn't told any of his agents much, only that she was never to know about Blood Bond. Maybe he was trying to make some convenient blood doll out of her, but that didn't make sense. As Prince he had access to as much high quality blood as he wanted, and besides, she could smell that faint, corrupt odour of fast food grease whenever she was close, so obviously that couldn't be it.

Jane came to a decision. Not only would she try harder for LaCroix, but now she would also try to find out the mystery behind his new ghoul.  
_

It took Lydia a good twenty minutes to figure out a two minute walk as she trekked around in the sewers. Finally she came to her desired manhole cover and clambered up the ladder. From there she raised the heavy piece of metal, peering out into the world.

She was in some alleyway, and the entrance to the blood bank was only several meters away. The problem was that there was youth standing in front of it. Leaning, actually, right beside the gray painted door. Lydia sighed with annoyance at her dilemma. She could just use Obfuscate to slip past him, but often when she opened doors her invisibility left her, and there was no way that guy wasn't going to notice the door opening by itself. Think, damnit! What else did she have at her disposal? Oh right, that third discipline, what was it again? Animalism? The Nosferatu shuddered. She hated animals and insects, with a passion. Sure, kittens and puppies were cute, but birds or spiders? No goddamn way. That one time where Alice's brother secretly placed a great big cockroach on her shoulder... No, she could not think of that, lest she find herself habitually checking herself over for creepy crawlies.

Above her a crow cawed, giving Lydia a start. She glared at the offending creature, then went back to glaring at the boy. Stupid kine, standing there like he owned the place. Like, honestly, who does that? It sure as fuck wasn't going to get him a date, loitering around a blood bank in a dark alley. Now if only he was distracted, just for a moment, she could slip inside. As she often did when people annoyed her, Lydia lapsed into a short daydream of something bothering the boy. Maybe some hooker girl would come up to him and creep him out. Or maybe some mugger will come and scare him off. Or maybe those damn birds will come down and claw at him...

With a flurry of feathers and loud squawking, the crows descended upon the boy. He waved frantically at them, looking surprised as they continued to circle. Lydia was transfixed for a moment, unsure of what to do. Finally it clicked in that now was her chance to slip in undetected. Without further ado, Lydia hauled herself out of the sewer and sprinted for the door. She swung it open and leapt inside, shutting it fast behind her. There wasn't a window on the door so that she could check how successful she was, but Lydia was pretty sure that she had remained relatively undetected. With a sigh, she turned around.

And nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of a staff member in scrubs standing right behind her.

They stood there, for a moment, studying each other. The clinic member was a young male, maybe twenty years old, with ginger hair and dark blue eyes that darted around like a rats. He had a smug, gleeful, and amused expression on his face like a tattling child catching a sibling in the cookie jar. Without a word, he turned around, crooked a finger, and headed down the stairwell they were standing in. Lydia looked after him, puzzled. Wasn't he supposed to scream or something? Hide? Run? Break the Masquerade? But the boy just kept walking, as if everything was all good, like he didn't just witness a monster from the depths of nightmares. Now Lydia was curious, so she decided to follow him, to see what he wanted.

He lead them down a few flights of stairs until they reached the basement, and then entered a door that lead to a booth not unlike one of those super secure convenience store booths. As soon as he locked the door, he leaned on the counter on the other side of glass with a cruel smirk on his face. "Well, well, well, what do we have here? There I was, walking up those cold concrete steps to tell that jackass vampire-wannabe Knox Harrington to stop scaring away the customers, but you, my little pretty, decided to brave his annoying fanboy bullshit and come right on in. Nicely done."

Lydia frowned. "Are you that Ghoul who's supposed to be selling blood?" "Ah, but you already know the answer to that, don't you? Its funny, you know: Your kind come in here, all innocent, all like, "Who, me?" But I see past the bullshitting. Honestly, who do they think their kidding? But you, it seems, don't have the option of playacting." The fledgling rolled her eyes. Great, a freak. But she was curious about something. "Whats a Ghoul then?" The boy gawked at her for a moment, then shook his head in amused disgust. "What has this world come to, when a Ghoul is giving a vampire lessons on their own vocabulary? A Ghoul, oh young one, is a human who drinks vampire blood-" "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..." Understanding dawned on Lydia. Now the boy looked genuinely disgusted. "So are you gonna buy any of my special stock or what?" he sighed, somewhat agitated.

"Alright, um..." she checked the Employee of the Month picture next to the booth. "...Vandal. Let me take a look-see."  
_

The elevator closed, shutting Sebastian in with the Old Soul. She looked nervous, which with any other person would have pleased Prince L.A. quite a bit, giving him the satisfaction a cat would feel cornering a mouse. In this case, however, he sighed internally. She needed to respect him, yes, but with less fear involved. Hmmm...

Quietly he resettled himself into a more relaxed posture, from the stiff hands-behind-his-back-like-an-inspecting-officer stance to the more gentle feet-apart-with-hands-clasped-together-like-a-schoolboy look. It seemed to work: slowly she relaxed, shoulders slumping slightly, even going so far as to lean back on her heels and tilt her head down a little. That's it. You see? I'm relaxing around you, therefore you should relax around me. There's nothing to be afraid of...

Her question, while sudden, was one that Sebastian had been waiting for since last night. "Sir," she began, testing the waters of discussion as she usually did. Such a curious habit; was it born from her fear or from some hard earned lesson of another lifetime? "Who was that in the courtroom, who called you out in front of everybody?" "That was Nines Rodriguez, an Anarch and a Brujah vagrant. He's been a thorn in my side ever since I came here to L.A., fighting like a mad dog for every scrap of downtown territory that he can get. I know you probably wish to thank him for his "kind" act, but make no mistake: what Nines did last night had nothing to do with trying to help your friend, but rather to simply challenge my authority in front of the vampire community. Besides, he does not care for me, as I do not care for him. While I doubt you are in any direct danger from his crowd, certainly any visit from you would be most assuredly unwelcome."

Sebastian watched as the wheels turned in the young woman's mind, her brow furrowed slightly as she considered his words. "What are Brewhaw? Is that another clan?" "Yes, the Brujah are a rebellious clan of vampires, always bent on social and political change, even if the current system works perfectly fine. Like now. What's worse is that he is one of the hot headed sort of Brujah, the kind that are overly passionate about whatever their political view is to the point where they seem no better than chanting vagrants." "There are different kinds?" "Within each clan there are always offshoots of some sort. A sort of sub-clan created by vampires who developed their own quirks and passed them on to their childer. In the case of the Brujah, hundreds of years ago they were still rebels, but were more scholarly and civil. A particularly hot headed specimen was Embraced, however, and ended up passing on his... fervor to his childe, who in turn did the same and so on until most Brujah these nights can trace their lineage to him."

The elevator dinged, and the frosted metal doors slid open. It was fascinating, watching the girl take this all in like a sponge, instead of sputtering with questions about detail like most people did. It was refreshing.

As they signed into the club and got set up for the Old Souls first(?) lesson in the use of guns, he pondered his problem with that insolent upstart who made his headquarters only a few streets away.

Nines Rodrigues. A thorn in his side indeed. But he was so close now, so close. The Sarcophagus... When it was finally here, should all the rumors be true...

Well, Mr. Rodrigues would certainly no longer be a problem.  
_

**Morgan145: hello all, another chapter out, and a much more interesting one coming soon! And guess what? I am DONE with school for the next few weeks, so now there should be a whole slew of chapters coming out (simply because I having nothing to do, which is quite a blessing by the way).**

**So now Lydia has met with Matthew, Alice has learned about the Sarcophagus, and Jane is once again pissed off by Kepler's presence, with Miseur LaCroix her unwitting object of affection (as far as Ventrue affection goes.). So sorry about having another slow chapter, and looooooong one at that, but don't worry: Lydia is about to open a can of Nosferatu Whoop-ass on some junky drug dealers, and Alice is about to meet up with a much loved personality of the game.**

**Stay tuned! and thank you all for reading away at this staccato paced story of mine!  
**


	14. Fighting Crime in the Name of Darkness

A Pacific breeze blew across the dark beach below the Santa Monica Pier. Lydia stepped out of the brick tunnel and assessed her surroundings. A fire roared a little ways away, surrounded by a motley group of young people. To her left was a set of stairs leading up to the Santa Monica Pier, closed tight due to a murder investigation. She could dimly make out the sounds of an arcade somewhere, while waves hissed softly as they met their death on sandy shores.

God, I'm starting to sound like Alice, she thought.

Keeping low and to the shadows, the fledgling skirted the edge of the group using her superior night vision to avoid brittle charred wood and glass. It was weird though, like something was missing. She supposed that it was probably the fact that not three nights ago she would have joined those people, made a new group of friends, and have a good time. Now, the former party queen was forced to slink past them, like some freak. A sharp pang of self loathing went through her gut. Just as she passed by the firelight, she heard footsteps running in her direction. Shit.

Lydia whipped around in time to see a young woman skid to a stop in front her. She pointed past her, towards the cliff at the end of the beach. "Up there," she said. "Through that chain link gate and up those stairs." A very confused Nosferatu fledgling stared at the woman. She had short raven black hair and wore a gold jacket over a black t-shirt and a pair of pants. Her Spanish accent was also very thick, making it hard to understand her. But the most interesting thing about her were the small fangs. They weren't as long as normal vampire teeth, but they looked sharp and strong and real. A thousand questions raced through Lydia's mind that moment, but she was already late for a well overdue appointment. "Uh...Thanks..." she replied. Slowly she turned around and scampered on her way.  
_

My lesson on guns with the Prince was not, shall we say, perfect. Oh, he was all nice and encouraging, but the fact that by end of the hour I had only hit four targets out the twenty I was presented with was obviously a major disappointment for him. And it only made me feel worse to watch him smoothly go through the motions of loading, aiming, and firing. LaCroix easily hit five targets scattered around the range with five bullets, as if he did it every day of his unlife. My only saving grace was that I very good at loading and unloading the gun as well as stripping it and putting it back together. The gun was a Desert Eagle .50 like his own. As we headed to the elevator, he told me to keep the gun so I could get used its feel, but he made sure I had no rounds on me. Obviously he didn't want me practicing in his multi-million dollar penthouse. The weight of the gun felt odd at my side, and I hoped I would never have to use it for real.

On the way back up to the penthouse, I was reminded of a thought. "Mr. LaCroix, I wanted to ask you something..." The vampire turned to me, raising a fair eyebrow in question. "Which is?" "Um, well, I'm really into photography, and, ah, I'd like to get a camera. I haven't taken any photos in a while, and I was wondering if it was alright with you that I went and bought one sometime." It was true; last night it had suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't touched a camera in almost two weeks, and I found myself itching almost painfully to hear the click of a shutter. "I promise I won't shoot anything... important. I won't even shoot inside the penthouse, if you don't want-"

LaCroix held up a hand, stemming the flow of my sputterings. "I can see that you are sincere, and I trust that you are more than responsible and intelligent enough to know the difference between what is and is not important." He seemed to deliberate on this for a moment, but somehow I knew he was pulling my leg. He had already made his decision.

"If you do not mind showing me your photographs every once in a while, I don't see the problem. But you're going to have to wait for while before getting your camera, unfortunately. Right now I fear that you are not yet ready to be on your own outside of Venture Tower. As you saw the other night, I do have enemies, and the last thing I want is to send you out into danger until I can be completely sure that you can take care of yourself." I nodded in acknowledgment, while inside I was bubbling with excitement. I was already dreaming of the sort of camera I would buy. It would definitely have to be a DSLR, maybe a Canon, or a Lumix... should I get an extra battery so I can increase the shutter speed? I definitely needed to get myself a telescopic lense so I could get some nice shots of the city scape from my bedroom. And on top of that I'll need a tripod...

"I should think that the funds available on your credit card should be more than enough to pay for it. How much are camera's these days? Five-hundred dollars? Six-hundred?" I winced. "Actually, if I want to get a really good one it'll be at least... fifteen-hundred." I waited for the explosion. "Fifteen-hundred? Well that's not so bad. Your credit card is pre-paid up to twenty thousand dollars, so unless you managed spend all of it when you were out at the shops with your friends you should be able to get what you need." The world fuzzed out for a second. Twenty. Thousand. Dollars...

Oh my God...

I swayed a bit on my feet. LaCroix looked sharply at me. "Are you all right?" "I-I'm OK, I'm just trying to deal with the fact that I had, had so much..." "Really? How much did you think you had?" "I don't know, just definitely not that much." The billionaire smirked, apparently amused by my reaction. "What did you buy, thinking you'd run out soon? Clothes? Books? Shoes?" "I, uh, bought a pair of earrings." LaCroix stared at me incredulously. "And how much did these earrings cost?" I looked down, embarrassed. "Five... dollars..." I replied meekly.

The look the Prince gave me left me hard pressed not to burst out laughing.  
_

Shadow fell across Lydia as she crouched behind a van parked in front of the foul smelling beach house. How those junkies managed to get the vehicle up there, she didn't know. The cabin was a wooden affair, painted a dark green with the front yard boundary marked by a peeling white picket fence. Beach towels hung from the front porch railing, rustling softly in the wind.

The young Nosferatu had been watching the place for the last half hour, and all that seemed to be happening right now was one guy playing a video game while a couple others were apparently arguing over the rules of poker. Such was the power of Lydia's new senses: she gathered all of her intel simply by directing her hearing over to the house, while sneaking a peak around the side of the van every few minutes. She had to strike soon, though, before someone came along for their Saturday night fix. Just listening to their banter was enough to bring back memories, both bad and pleasant alike. This wasn't her first time seeing a bunch of drug dealers shooting the breeze before the next customer showed up, and from her experience it was more than likely that they had been smoking up or snorting powder since the Sun had gone down. With any luck, these guys would be as high as kites, and judging by the stink of narcotics, wouldn't be returning to earth for quite a while.

Making a decision, Lydia darted over to the rotting white picket fence. She considered the plausibility of jumping over it undetected, but decided against it and instead searched for a loose board. It wasn't very hard to find. In fact, what she did find was a picket leaning against the fence, without any sort of nail or something to keep it in place. It was a poor error of judgment on their part to leave such a gaping hole in their defenses, even if there were about six armed guys in the house. Lydia removed the filthy picket and placed it quietly on the sand, slipping through the gap easily. It sort of reminded her of that one time she played a prank on a couple of her lesser girlfriends, waiting until they came out for a smoke before she ambushed them wearing a dark mask and a hood. Except this wasn't a prank. This was deadly serious.

Now that she had breached their first defense came the real challenge: how to get in. It was probably best to try to find a back door. That would be the last place they would expect an intruder due to local geography. As she entered the backyard, she noticed a curious thing. A generator. A cat-like smile curved her ruined lips as Lydia was suddenly struck with an idea. She snuck over to the softly humming machine and deftly pried open the switch box. The six black breakers and the red switch were easily seen in the deep shadows where normally Lydia would need a flashlight. With a cold smile, she clicked the power switch to "off".

The lights went out.

"Hey, what happened to the lights?" "Derrick, go turn the lights back on!" "Fuck you, you go turn the lights back on." "Get out there and turn on the fucking generator before I shove that controller up your ass!"

Lydia grinned wickedly and sank back into the deep shadows near the fence. Typical junkies. A few seconds later the screen door slammed, and a very pissed off gangsta, complete with dark hoodie and baggy pants, walked around the back. "Fuckin' assholes. Why the FUCK do I have to everything myself? I'm not their goddamn bitch..." His angry grumbles made Lydia want to snort out loud. But now she had to strike, and suddenly all the merriment faded from her. This wasn't like pulling a prank or getting into a cat-fight, nor was it like when she took out that Sabbat runt last night. She had to go and kill him now, before he turned the lights back on. Well, at least she was ridding the world of one carefree asshole who profited from other people's suffering. The cold-footed fledgling padded silently behind him, reached for his neck...

A cell phone beeped, startling them both. The guy reached into his pocket, pulling out a beaten up LG phone. Lydia stared over his shoulder as he opened up a text message.

hey hunni! So excited 4 our date nxt week!  
u were so sweet last time, like a real gentleman.  
I'll c u nxt Sat.!

The fledgling froze, her chest seeming to seize up with emotion. Oh God, this guy wasn't just some drug dealer! He was a person, with people who loved and cared for him, and, judging by his smile, loved and cared for back. Jesus Christ, how did she even think this would be easy, even think of this guy as if he was an object? Fuck, she used to hang out with these sorts of people, date them. She should have known better...

Lydia sighed internally. If she was gonna kill him, if she was going to kill anyone, she would have to do so with the full knowledge that whoever she killed was a person to someone. No more trying to lump them all into one insignificant category; everyone is important.

Alice would have been proud of her for figuring that out.

But as she was philosophizing, the guy, having read the message, put away his phone. He stopped, seeming to notice something. Slowly, he turned around... and came face to face with the revolting image of Lydia Harrows.

The guy screamed bloody murder as he reached for the gun at his side. Shit, she thought. Rushing forward, she smacked the revolver he held hard enough to send it spinning into the night. With her other arm she struck at his chest, raking her sharp claws through layers of cotton and skin. The boy yowled, grabbing her arm in a attempt to free himself, but to his misfortune he forgot about her other hand, which whipped around to tear a jagged line across his jugular. Blood fountained grotesquely out of his throat. Within seconds, his cries turned to a sort of gurgling, which quickly subsided into silence.

But not for long. Already she could hear running footsteps coming around the side of the house. Quickly, she darted back into the deeper shadows. The next guy who came didn't have a shirt on, and in spite of herself Lydia couldn't help but appreciate the muscular curves of his abs and shoulders. "Derrick?" he called. "What the fuck is going on, Brian?" "I dunno... Derrick, Derrick, man, can you hear me? Where are you?" The new guy, Brian, stumbled on something. Derrick's body. "The fuck...?" he bent down, felt around... and realized what it was. "Oh my God! Holy shit! Guys, get out here! Guys? There's something out here! It got Derrick!" "Yo, what the hell are you talkin' about now?" The new speaker was a black guy, dressed in a white lab coat and gold chains who leaned out of a back window. He honestly looked like some stereotypical pimp. Judging by the better quality of his apparel, Lydia guessed that he must the leader.

"Something killed Derrick, man! Fuck, come out here and help me! Bring some flashlights or somethin'! Hurry up, that thing might come back!" "Okay, just hold on..." The guy disappeared back inside, and Lydia prepared herself for a fight.  
_

I was told to wait outside LaCroix's office while he went to get something, apparently yet another gift for me. As I waited, the door to the antechamber opened, admitting a tallish pale man in a brown trench coat and a surprisingly old style of shirt and pants. Long Black hair fell about his shoulders, and in spite of the time being almost ten thirty at night, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. A brown leather bag hung from his side, its broad strap circling the opposite shoulder. Everything about him suggested savage strength and speed. My ghoul senses tingled: another vampire.

"Good evening, young one." he said politely, his voice a low sarcastic drawl. "Do you know if Prince LaCroix is about?" "Ah, yes, he's just in his office. I'm waiting for him to come out myself." "Well, we'd best not disturb the Prince's quiet time until he's ready to receive us." He studied me carefully. For an instant, his glasses slipped, revealing...

I started at what I saw. The man's eyes were two glowing orange orbs, their black centers in sharp contrast with their setting. They weren't human at all. I then realized how rude I must have looked, and once again found myself sputtering apologies to the undead. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to be so rude." "It's quite alright, young one. You're obviously new, and probably haven't seen another undead soul save your master, am I right? And besides, it's nothing unusual. Their great conversation starters, I think." In spite of myself, I giggled. I liked this man. His sarcasm was surprisingly refreshing after a week and a bit of mostly strait laced verbal communication.

"Beckett." he said, introducing himself. He offered a hand to shake, which I took after a moment. It was cool, like every other vampire I had met. He didn't say whether it was his first name or last, and I didn't bother asking. "Beckett," I repeated. "It suits you. There's teeth in that name." For once I wasn't embarrassed by my poetic dialogue. And neither, it seemed, was Beckett, who chuckled a bit at my statement. "It is interesting that you should say that. Gangrel is indeed the Clan of Beasts, and now it appears once again that it lives up to its name." He arched a dark eyebrow. "And what are you called, young one?" "Alice. Alice Kepler."

The office door opened then, and LaCroix stepped out. A shiny black leather holster was held in one hand, which he presented to me, but not before I could register the surprise on his face when he saw who I was standing with. "Beckett! What a surprise. Let me finish with my ghoul, and I'll be right with you." He turned to me. "Now, I want for you to spend a few hours tonight and read over those documents I sent you. And also, take a look at these," he said, producing a small bundle of University brochures that had apparently been hiding somewhere on his person. "The winter term starts in January, so you do have some time to mull over where you want to go and what you want to take. We'll discuss your choices later. Now off you go." Obviously knowing it wasn't a good time for questions, I nodded and went immediately in the direction of my room.  
_

As the girl walked off down the hall, Sebastian pushed away the urge to grimace in annoyance. He hadn't meant to have that scene in front a stranger, especially one like Beckett, but there was no reason that the Old Soul shouldn't receive a proper education, and he needed to enroll her soon. He could almost taste the near palpable curiosity of the other Elder as they stepped inside his office.

The double doors of Sebastian's office closed, sealing him in with the vampire scholar. As soon as the bolt clicked, Beckett smirked in its direction.

"Now how did you find one? I hear they're supposed to be extremely rare."

So much for a rehearsed explanation.

"They are, but that's not important right now. What I need to know is if you're planning on saying anything."  
"Of course you do. But I'm afraid you'll need to clarify what exactly I am not saying."

The Ventrue's reply was curt. "You are to tell her nothing about what she is. And you are not to tell her anything about Bloodbond. Lastly, you will not tell anyone about the Old Soul."

"How intriguing. Might I presume that you are using her ignorance of the Bond in order to keep her from actively fighting said Bond?"  
"Indeed, which is why you must not say a word about it to her lest you jeopardize everything. Now do I have your word or not?"

Instead of answering, the Gangrel continued on.

"Though I am more interested in learning how you managed to get her to drink your blood in the first place."  
"If you must know, she was shot in an alley and was nearly delirious from blood loss."  
"Ah. So she's the one I read about in the paper the other day."

Now Sebastian's patience grew dangerously short.

"Mr. Beckett, I have very little time and still have much to do before dawn. Now you will either agree to keep Ms. Alice and what she is a secret and say nothing about the Bloodbond, or I will be forced to have my Sheriff sharpen the pikes for your head. What will it be?"  
"Don't worry, Prince, I have no intent on spoiling your little charade. Like her, all I wish to do is observe."  
"Good."  
"But I must say, what an interesting specimen you have found. She's obviously very old, and yet she hasn't Awakened yet. How... peculiar."  
"Yes... Now, I assume that your research has brought you here to Los Angeles and you are simply here to announce your presence. This is correct, yes?"  
"Indeed it has."  
"Well then, I appreciate your courteous gesture by seeing me, and I wish you good luck in your studies. As long as you uphold the Masquerade and keep to Camarilla Law, as well as keep your mouth shut about the Old Soul, you have permission to operate within my city."

Ice blue eyes stared coolly at the old scholar as dark lips twitched into a humorless smile.

"Welcome to Los Angeles."  
_

Lydia scuttled into the deep shadow by the fence, and watched with growing dismay as the gang filed out into the backyard. There were only five of them, but a few of the guys had tire irons and crowbars while the rest had guns. She may be fast, but she doubted she could dodge bullets. Considering her options, the Fledgling listened in on the junkies from where she hid behind the worn concrete slabs in one corner. "Man, what the fuck? It's like some animal came to get a piece of Derrick. Where are those goddamn flashlights, man? I don't like keeping my back to the dark right now..."

Lydia knew that she had to act fast. Any second now they would turn on the flashlights and would quickly find her, giving them a clear view of the Nosferatu and consequently, fatally, disorienting her due to her somewhat light sensitive eyes. But how to attack?

Or did she? Now that all the thugs were out of the house, she could just slip in there and grab what she needed. She could be in and out before they gave up the search. Making a fast decision, Lydia formed Obfuscate around herself and jogged towards the still open screen door on the side of the house. In spite of her invisibility, she kept low and to the shadows to avoid any chance of undue attention. Once she was inside, she let her discipline go and began her search. Her first task was to find where they cooked their stuff. The astrolite was most likely going to be in there with the other drugs, but kept apart to mark it as special. As she snooped around, she noticed a loose vent between two bunk beds. Just her luck: a stash spot. Quickly she lifted the vent upwards and peered into the unnaturally large cavity behind it, confirming her suspicions. To her disappointment, it was empty. Well, mostly empty. A single stuffed envelope rested on the ground near one corner. When Lydia peered inside it, a wonderful surprise greeted her: $250 in cash, a welcome little bundle. Stuffing the wad onto her pocket, she ducked out of the space and continued her search.

But already she was running out of time, judging by the distant frustrated shouts. It wouldn't be much longer before they gave up the hunt and came back. Suddenly, for no reason at all, an old cereal jingle came to mind: 'Follow your nose, wherever it goes!' Lydia blinked and tried not to giggle out loud. How could she be thinking of food at a time like this? Her mini revelation, however, was useful: the source of the stink that permeated the house was most likely going to be where the lab was. Lydia took a few short, almost delicate sniffs of air. The combined stench of chemicals coupled with rotting wood and mold was overwhelming almost to the point of nausea. If the fledgling concentrated, however, she found she could discern a more potent smell towards the front of the house. Opening a particularly rotted out door, a wave of translucent, slightly multicolored smoke billowed out causing her to clutch the door and retch for a moment. Evidently she had found the lab. Swinging the door wide open, the Nosferatu took a deep breath of comparably fresher air before she went inside, and then remembered at the last second that she didn't actually need to breathe.

Another weird thing about being a vampire: there were times when she remembered stuff like this, and then times where she acted and thought as if she was still human. It was often disorienting in its own right. At times like these though, she was glad she remembered. Halting her breathing for a moment, she went inside and found the astrolite almost immediately. It sat there, plain as day, two white jugs with liquid inside along with a wire fuse and a timer. Grabbing it off the rickety table, she turned to leave. And almost ran into one the thugs.

It was the shirtless one, Brian. "WHAT THE FUCK?" he screamed. Instantly, Lydia was in motion. Stronger, stronger, stronger, she thought, like a prayer, as she swiped at the guy with her right hand. Her blow connected solidly with his shoulder, broken bone crunching underneath the skin as the guy was sent flying to the left. He crashed into second door and the black man trying to go through it, sending them both sprawling to the cold rough carpet. Swinging around with her momentum, Lydia turned just in time to block another man's overhand swing of a tire iron. Lydia wrestled with him briefly, trying to pry the piece of metal out of his hand. As their struggle spilled out into the hall, she felt a sharp sting her side. A quick glance showed her a knife protruding from her waist, still in the white knuckle grip of one of the junkies. In the corner of her eye, she noticed something silver, and turned to watch the muzzle of a pistol flash along with hearing its accompanying bang, and for the second time that night Lydia realized she had been shot.

Damn, this was getting bad fast. Stupid, stupid, for letting them sneak up on her like that! With a final twist and a jerk, she yanked the tire iron away from her opponent, whipping the metal around to slam it into the arm of the boy who stabbed her. A crowbar entered her peripheral vision, seeming to move in slow motion. Lydia tried to duck away, but made the mistake of moving in the wrong direction and exposing her back to full force of the blow. It connected with a low "thunk!" and a metallic ring, the powerful blow caused the already bent Lydia to fall to her hands and knees. A second hit flattened her to the ground, her vision going fuzzy and black. "Why won't this thing fucking die already?" Her attacker's voice was muffled. He raised the bar for another smack.

CRASH!

One of the decanters in the lab broke as one of the wounded junkies stumbled into its table. Everyone turned to look, and it was their fatal mistake. With a snarl, Lydia tripped the one with the crowbar and snatched his weapon out of his hands. Swinging the bar as hard as she could with renewed strength, Lydia laid about with her club left, right, and center. Everything became a blur of screams and breaking bone and the metal connected with skulls, ribs, and arms as the Nosferatu desperately fought for her life. Finally, she found herself repeatedly, almost hysterically smacking the crowbar into the head of one of the guys, sending small geysers blood everywhere from the now pulverized cranium. Eventually, after what seemed like an age, she made herself stop and look around.

The place had become the location of a bloodbath. Splatters of body fluids speckled the walls like some sick contemporary masterpiece. Blood was pooled and congealed everywhere, from the carpet to the ceiling. There were even a few limbs that looked like they were ripped off, though for the life of her Lydia couldn't remember when or how that had happened. Mutely she stared at the crowbar that she still clutched in her hand, before she let it drop to the ground with a sharp clang. Quietly, she leaned down and grasped the astrolite with her one hand. It would be dawn soon, and she felt exhausted from her ordeal. She would have to go back to Mercurio another night.

With heavy steps, Lydia left behind the dark and silent house and went into the night.  
_

**Morgan145: whew! Another chapter complete! Sorry this one took so long, I've been ridiculously busy over the holidays and the start of the term. Next chapter will probably be pretty short, really just an interlude into... (da dada dah!) the Ocean House Chapter! And have no fear, thin bloods will come into the picture very soon, as will a very important Tremere! (sorry if I spoiled anything, just want to reaffirm to kind fans that I'm probably going to stop procrastinating with that meeting very soon.). I know I kind of messed up with the time frames here, considering that a one hour gunmanship lesson turned into three hours. Will go back and fix that sometime soon, but not for a bit. Mr. Harrington will probably be making an appearance again in both of the next couple of chapters. Lastly, I'm going to try for longer time lapses between events. I mean, two to three chapters dedicated to chronicling each night does an amazing job of slowing everything down to a bore, unless of course its necessary of course.**

**Thank you once again to SpecialAgentOrange, your insight has been very helpful. And TheresaVamp, your compliment is totally welcome as well!**

**Thank you very much everyone for reading, and please feel free to review!  
**


	15. Golden Ghouls and Firehoses

Johnathan stared at the ceiling from the bed of his three star hotel room, cellphone clutched in one hand. Another day, and still no sign of Lydia, and not a word from Alice. Now he was getting seriously worried. Lydia never went this long without contacting them in some fashion. And Alice... there was a time, not a month ago, when either of them would be racing to call the other back, or reply to a text. In spite of Lydia's reassurances, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was losing Alice to that rich boy up in the Ivory tower. He had to face it: LaCroix had the looks, the charm, and the money to have any girl he wanted. And Johnathan had seen, as much as he had tried not to, how every time LaCroix was mentioned or nearby, Alice's eyes would light up.

Johnathan groaned and rolled onto his side, furious at fate for giving him such twisted luck: Alice had survived the mugging, only to lose her family (how he missed them too!), and fall for a Fortune 500 bigshot. The funny thing was, he didn't doubt Alice's integrity or honor; on the contrary, he knew that if she was indeed falling for that baby-faced CEO, she would hold it off until they had a chance to talk honestly about it. Unless she was becoming an evil monster's bride...

The former quarterback stopped, considered his last thought, and burst out laughing. God, that weird German guy was nuts. According to him, LaCroix was some sort of French vampire, apparently responsible for many of the worlds troubles. What a nut!

With a final snort he rolled onto his back again. Then let out a heavy sigh. Things would never be the same. Never, ever...  
_

The blaring of a truck horn made Lydia almost galvanize out of bed. She glanced at the clock, which read eight at night. With a moan she sat up, then felt a sense of surprise as not a single muscle complained about it. Experimentally she twisted back and forth, and found herself just as easy to move as ever. Which was amazing considering the massive beating she took from those thugs last night. She remembered stumbling back into the apartment, feeling like she was going to fall into shambles at any second. Her back had screeched in protest every time she moved it, making it hell to board up and curtain the windows for the day. The bullet, when she had bothered to look for it, turned out to be lodged in her sternum, and because it wasn't causing any problems she decided to leave it. Now Lydia picked up the spent round, having been pushed out and covered in her dried blood, and placed it on the desk on the end of her bed.

Swinging around and standing up, the young Nosferatu went to the fridge and grabbed a bag of blood. It was her last one, after she guzzled down another bag before going to sleep last night. She pulled out the loose end of the rubber straw that these bags seemed to come with and began sucking greedily. The jugs of astrolite were caught in her peripheral vision, reminding her of tonight's task.

Tossing the empty bag in the trash, Lydia finished up her mental laundry list, grabbed the astrolite, and headed out the door.  
_

Before she went to Mercurio's place Lydia decided to stop off at the clinic to get some more blood. Stealing down the adjacent alleyway, Lydia was just about to step inside the side door when someone tapped her shoulder. With a yelp she whirled around, only to come face to face with a grinning golden eyed youth.

She stumbled back into the door, mind racing. This was it, the moment that Lydia had hoped she would never face: being caught by a human. "Uh..." was all she managed to get out before the boy exploded into excited speech. "Hey! You! You're a vampire, aren't you? Though it is kinda obvious with you being a Nosferatu and all." Lydia stared back, completely astonished. "Um, I'm not sure what you know, sir, but I suggest that you forget it..." she tried, a weak attempt to get him to go away. It didn't work. "Hey, I work for a vampire," He protested, his high boyish voice sounding whiny. "Come on, girl, come clean, you know you want to." Unheated breath blew past her misshapen nostrils as the Nosferatu considered her plight. Did she really have a choice at this point?

"Yea, OK, you got me-" "HELL YEA! I knew you were a vampire, I mean, I just could tell- Okay, again it was kinda obvious 'cause your a Nosferatu, but man, it was like I could just sense you. My names Knox Harrington. Pleasure to meet you... Oh man!" Regarding him like he was some wild animal, Lydia extended a tentative claw. "Lydia." She didn't bother with her last name; that life was over now, for good. The boy - Knox - shook it rigorously. "Like I said, pleasure to meet you." "So, how do you know about my Clan and stuff? Are you a vampire too?" she didn't see any long canines in his mouth. "Noooooo, I'm a ghoul! I work for my master to get vampire blood each month." "Ah." was Lydia's intelligent reply. "Do you, do you like being a ghoul?" "IT'S AWESOME! The vamp blood makes me stronger and heal up quick and that kind of stuff. I felt like a God just sucking on that nasty dude's wrist." "Oh really..." she murmured, inching towards the door. "Yea! Well, hey, nice talking to you. I've got, you know, important stuff to do. See ya later!" with a last wave, the boy headed down the alley and out into the street. Staring after him, Lydia muttered under her breath, "Did anyone tell you that you're a jackass?" Finally she slipped inside the clinic to get the necessary supplies..  
_

After buying some blood from that creepy blood clinic guy Vandal, Lydia headed over to Mercurio's. She found him lying on the couch on his back, his various injuries in bloodied bandages. Evidently he had found the strength to clean up the blood from the couch, though the painkillers she had brought him last night obviously helped. He greeted her with a lopsided grin.

"Hey, kid. You got the astrolite? Yea? Did you waste those sons of bitches?" Lydia didn't want to think about what happened last night. "Only those who got in my way." she replied rather morbidly. "Good. Great. I hope they suffered." his eyes became fierce for a moment, then softened. "Oh yea, I forgot. Here's your 'company' phone." He dug around his pocket and came up with a beat up cellphone. Tossing it to the fledgling, he went on.

"The boss doesn't have much time on his hands, so he'll get in touch with ya through your cell, either by phone call or text." Lydia felt her spirits rise as she held it. With this in hand, she could finally get in touch with Alice!

"Now, about the astrolite. There's this warehouse- way into the industrial section of the city. You gotta take that stuff and blow it up." "What? But I've never done anything like that before. I don't even know how to rig the astrolite to blow! And why am I blowing this place up? Isn't that terrorism?" "Don't worry about that yet, kid, you got other problems first. There's this guy, names Tung, Bertram Tung, one of you people. He was supposed to take you there, but hes gone into hiding all of the sudden." Lydia felt her shoulders slump. All she wanted to do was get her assignment done and over with, but now another obstacle was pushed in her way. "Do you know where he is?" she asked, now rather annoyed. "Naw, no idea. But word on the street is that he and Therese Voerman, the owner of a club a few streets over, are havin' a bit of a feud. Now Tung thinks he's gonna get whacked, so hes disappeared."

Lydia wanted to groan out loud. "So what am I supposed to do?" "You should go talk to Therese, ask her to end it so he comes out of hiding. Sorry, but that's the best I can do for ya." With pained sigh, the old ghoul repositioned himself on the couch. "By the way, kid, thanks for that morphine you swiped from the clinic." "Huh? Oh, you're welcome." the Nosferatu's mind was already on her task. "See you later, Mercurio." "Wait! I didn't tell you which club it is. It's called the Asylum, and you can find it on Second Street. Lots of weird types there, I hate doing business in that place. You'll probably blend in pretty well. No offense." Lydia flinched at the comment, even though it wasn't meant to be an insult. The truth hurt more than any cruel words, she realized. With a nod, Lydia walked out the door.  
_

The Asylum was crowded, filled with college students and underage teens alike. No one gave Lydia a second glance as she came inside. She slid through the crowd, trying to find a quiet corner in order to think. Where was she supposed to find this Therese woman?

A figure making its leisurely way towards her caught her attention. A blond girl done up in school girl pigtails and attire, complete with tied up blouse and short plaid skirt, with lips redder than blood and black eye makeup made to resemble rays coming down from her eyes. She was extremely pretty, Lydia noted with a twinge of envy, if a bit freaky looking.

"Well, what do we have here?" came her lazy, girly voice. "Another scrumptious plaything straight out of life and into my club? You smell new, little girl, like fabric softener dew over freshly mowed astroturf. Oooh, I'm not frightening you am I duckling?" perfectly manicured eyebrows wiggled expressively over her face. Completely taken aback by this girl, Lydia almost let loose a "What the fuck's your problem?" when she spotted the long, dainty canines in her mouth. A vampire.

"Uh, who are you?" she asked, unsure of what to do, what the protocol was. The other girl gave her a cat like smile and a squint of her eyes. "I'm the finger down your spine when the lights go out, and the name on all the mensroom walls. When I pout, the whole world tries to make me smile, and everyone wants to know who is THAT girl." Lydia recognized the word games from her time in highschool. "What a tease," she said languorously. "Got a name I can remember you by?" The vampiress smiled. "I. Am. Jeanette." she replied, one eyebrow raising delicately. It was then Lydia noticed that her eyes were mismatched. The one on Lydia's right was a grass green, while the other was a bright steely grey. The girl went on. "And this little place crammed in a certifiable giggle is my club." "Cool. Do you know where I can find Therese Voerman?" Lydia asked. "Why, oh why does everyone want to see THAT stick in the mud? Listen, duckling, if you wanna see my silly sister, you're gonna have to wait a few. She's a lil busy right now, doing boring Camarilla butt kissing. But after you go see her, feel free to come visit me afterward to, revive, you of your tragic death by boredom." With a final wag of her fingers, Jeanette Voerman disappeared into the crowd. As Lydia watched, the undead schoolgirl stepped into an old fashioned elevator and disappeared. Damnit, that's how I should have been, she thought. Beautiful, sexy, and deadly, if a little less freakish.

Doubting that just anyone could could go use that elevator, the young fledgling made her way to the bar. A very large tattooed bartender stood behind the bar, looking rather bored. He did start however when he saw Lydia sidle up the counter. "Hey, whoa, are they shooting a movie nearby? Might wanna go back to the make-up department, girl, and get that removed before you start scaring customers." Lydia glared acidly at him. She was getting just a little tired of the "you're fucking ugly!" type of comments that had been shooting her way recently. Even if it was true. Grinning evilly at her insulter, she put on her best alluring face. "Is it really that bad? How about you and I find somewhere private so you can take it off?" The man turned a light shade of green, and Lydia took advantage of him being off balance. Throwing a vicious look at him she snipped "I need to see Therese." "What the hell do you wanna see her for? I doubt she see's people dressed like goblins." He stared at her unflinching face for a moment, than sighed. "Fine, I'll cut you a break. Use that elevator over there. But missy, if I find that you're not supposed to be here, you and I are gonna have a heart-to-heart, you got me?" the fledgling snorted and gave him a wink, then headed towards the elevator.

On the way up, the music faded and gave way to voices. "Your city? Last time I heard, this was called Santa Monica, not Stuck Up Bitch!" That was Jeanette. Her girlish tones were impossible to not to recognize. A second voice came into the fray, similar to Jeanette's but much much colder, and older sounding. "So vulgar! I can't even look at you sometimes, you Jezebel!" "Oh Therese, you really do paint a flattering portrait of me with your turn-of-century bards!" Lydia couldn't help herself: she rolled her eyes. Seriously, they sounded no different than her thirteen year old twin sisters back home. One was the little girly girl, while the other was the sophisticate. By now she had long stepped from the elevator and into the tiny waiting room, and was now listening in through the red papered walls. The voices continued on. "I always assumed you could only look down on me, Therese." "Just the sight of you! The sight of that wicked tainted pout concealing that dirty, diseased mind. Sin! You have no shame!" "Let the one who has no shame cast the fierce tone!" the fledgling frowned a bit. Shouldn't that line be "cast the first stone"? "Go ahead and mock me! You pull your pranks, make fun of my ways, it suits you. You're just one. Big. Joke." "Don't you call me that!" "Should I start calling a duck a pig as well?" an angry wail dissolved into a tearful whine. "I'm your sister, how can you treat me like this?" running, angry footsteps proceeded off to Lydia's right. Sounds like Jeanette had had enough, she thought. The older woman seemed to sigh in annoyance. "That's it, Jeanette. Run away from the truth. I'll take care of everything, as always."

Lydia waited on the other side of the door for another moment, making absolutely sure that it was clear. Only when the silence stretched on, except for the sound of what must have been computer keys being typed furiously, did she dare to step in.

The blond woman sitting at the desk looked up as the door opened. When Lydia hung around the door, unsure of what to do, the she favored the fledgling with a lukewarm smile. "Please, come in. I apologize if my sister's crassness made you uncomfortable, but I do suppose that such a personality in this business is a necessary evil." Lydia nodded in acknowledgment. "So you're Therese then?" "Therese Voerman, yes. I'm the proprietor of this club. And as Baron of Santa Monica I'm also the only Kindred here whose good side is in your best interests to stay on in this city." Now the young Nosferatu was impressed. She took a moment to study this new and apparently powerful vampire. She looked very much like her sister, except she was more handsome than hot. It might have had to do with the square pair of glasses she wore, or the low cut grey woman's business suit. Or even the professional bun her blond hair was pulled up into, with strands of her blond bangs pulled loose to frame her make-up devoid face. Bright steel grey eyes assessed her in return. "What's a Baron?"Lydia asked.

"Look, it's a bit difficult to explain right now. Think of it this way: I keep a handle of the Kindred in this city. I keep track of what they do, and if any disputes crop up, the participants are obligated to come to me to help sort it out. That is the basis of my job. Now tell me, fledgling, what brings you to Santa Monica?" Her prim and proper cold tones were all no nonsense, and so Lydia tried her best to get to the point. "I need you to call off the feud with Bertram Tung." she said, more boldly than she actually felt. Therese laughed, a short, mirthless sound. "I assure you, Tung's exile is completely self imposed. But why wouldn't I want to hate that loathsome Nosferatu? Oh, no offense, truly." "None taken." Lydia tried not to grind her teeth as she said it. "But I really need to find him. Is there anything I can do that can make him come out of hiding?" "Well..." mused the other, standing up from her desk. She walked a few paces to right, close to the screen in the middle of the office. It really was an unusual place to conduct professional business. The high walls were papered red, like the sitting area. A long greyish pink solid screen divided the room in half, but on the other side Lydia could make out a large heart shaped bed with pink sheets. African sculptures and masks decorated one wall, but the most prominent decoration was a huge oil painting that dominated one of the far walls, stretching up almost to the ceiling. The image itself was dominated by a bald man, with two grave faced little girls standing beside him. They were both blond and almost identical, except one had her hair down, while the other had hers in pig tails.

Therese finally seemed to make up her mind as to what she required to end the feud, and came back over to where Lydia was standing. "I have thought of a proposition for you. Near the Santa Monica Pier, there is a house. An old, abandoned hotel that I have turned into a business venture. Unfortunately, I have had troubling reports from construction crews that are trying to restore it." Suddenly Lydia had a very bad feeling about this.

"I keep receiving reports of strange happenings around the area, accidents, that have resulted in the injury of several laborers. Now the crew refuses to work there. I have looked into the history of the place, and apparently it was once the location of several vicious axe murders."

Oh no... Lydia thought faintly.

"...And so I have come to the conclusion that the place is haunted, and the ghosts are angry." "G-ghosts?" Lydia stammered. "Ah yes, I forgot you're new to this. Yes, ghosts exist, as do mummies, werewolves, and I suspect a whole lot of other things I have not seen share the night with us." She smirked. "Now the rumor on the street is that an item of the spirits can help exorcise them from their haunt. Now usually, I do not put a lot of stock in hearsay, but it's my last option." The woman's voice became sharp, commanding. "Go to the Ocean House hotel, find an item of the spirits, and bring it back. A simple task. When you are done, I'll put out the word that the feud is off. Don't worry, fledgling. Doing business with me is far more predictable than with some who call themselves my peers." Therese glanced down at the nice, black leather watch on her wrist. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some business to attend to. Run along, now!" with a final shooing motion, the Santa Monica Baron made Lydia leave her office.

But she wasn't paying attention to that. In fact, Lydia's entire night seemed to be wiped clean. Ghosts... the one thing she was more terrified of than bugs or animals. What a stroke of luck. With numb fingers, Lydia took out her cellphone and punched in some numbers and letters, with only one thought on her mind:

Ghosts!  
_

**morgan145: hello all, tis the end of the "interlude". As one can probably guess, Lydia has a bit of a phobia of ghosts! How exciting! Should make her trip to the Ocean House far more fun! And *gasp*, what is this? a chapter without Alice OR LaCroix? totally intentional, I assure you. there won't be too many of these, but I really wanted to focus on Lydia and Johnathan just a bit. Character building and confirming, really. Other characters are gonna come into play once again soon, as well. Oh, and sorry everyone for the fairly unoriginal diologue. I tried to switch it around a bit to keep it interesting, but I also wanted to keep beloved lines where they belonged. And I finally got to learn what the Voerman sisters are saying when you first hear them arguing, so that's a bonus!  
**

**Thank you all for staying tuned so far! next chapter coming right up!  
**


	16. Escapade

My phone beeped, signaling the arrival of another text message. I reached towards where it lay on the couch beside me with lazy ease. Tonight was my first complete night off since becoming a ghoul, and I planned to spend every minute of it relaxing and really getting to know my room better. LaCroix was off doing some corporate activity, while Mercurio recovered at his home in Santa Monica. I still couldn't believe the wounds he had suffered from those hunters who had ambushed him in an alley somewhere. I knew he would be alright, but I still winced in sympathy at some the bruises and cuts the older ghoul had received.

The wall mounted television was turned to the Channel 9 News Network, where reporter Chad Burkum was spilling the beans on the latest celebrity gossip. Apparently, reckless movie star Ash Rivers had miraculously survived another high speed car crash into the gates of a studio in Hollywood. I remembered seeing the dark haired in Negative Zero, with Lydia beside me sighing over and over about how absolutely HOT he was. Personally the man wasn't my type.

I looked at my phone to find yet another text message from Lydia, making this about the sixth one in the last ten minutes. She had apparently just got a new phone last night, and was texting me none stop. I felt bad for not answering her, I really did. She was probably scared, wanting to turn to someone for answers. But I wouldn't, couldn't give in. LaCroix had specifically told me to not talk to Lydia until she was finished with whatever job she was supposed to do in Santa Monica. However every minute that I ignored her only served to tempt me more and more as the night wore on.

Suddenly the phone buzzed, the screen lighting up to tell me that I was receiving a call. The Unknown Number already told me who it was. I pointedly ignored the device, focusing my attention on the T.V. screen.

The phone buzzed again.  
And again.  
And again.

Damnit all.

I picked up.

"Alice? Alice! Where have you been, I've been trying to reach you for ages! Why haven't you been answering me?" It took me a second to realize that the rasp coming over the line was indeed my friend. Oh Lydia..."Look, I have to make this quick. I'm not even supposed to be talking to you." "What? Why? Who says you can't talk to me? What's going on?" "Look, just tell me why you're calling me already. Didn't the Prince tell you that you can talk to me when you get back downtown?" "The Prince?- Y-yea, I know that, it's just that..." "What?" "I'm kinda stuck." "What do you mean?" "Well, it's a long story, but the Santa Monica Baron or whatever wants me to, well..." "What, Lydia?" "She wants me to break into a haunted hotel and take an 'item of the spirits', whatever that means."

I stared at the phone for a moment. Ghosts. What was the one thing that Lydia was scared of besides bugs and animals? Ghosts. Either someone did their homework or fate was playing a harsh joke on poor Lydia.

"Ali," She pleaded, "You know how I am about this sort of thing..." My voice became hard as I rallied myself against my best friend. "Well what do you want me to do? Banish the ghosts? Give the hotel a pretty makeover? Look, I'll stay on the line while you go get the thing, how's that?" "Noooooooo, that won't be enough. And besides, the place doesn't get service, I've already checked. And what happens if there's white noise?" "You've already been there? Then what do you need my help for?" "It's way too fucking scary, Alice. I swear to God I saw lights in the windows and stuff. Come on, Ali, I really need your help here! I need you to come with me! You've always been the one for all those horror flicks, right? Mirrors, Saw, Halloween, Paranormal Activity, the Ring... And remember when we watched Johnathan play F.E.A.R. in the dark? You fuckin' laughed or rolled your eyes the whole time while I cried in a corner! Please, please just come down here and come with me! If you're here it won't take long, I promise!"

I sat there, teetering on the edge of decision. Should I follow LaCroix's orders and ignore Lydia's pleas? Or should I go to Lydia in Santa Monica and risk a vampire Prince's wrath?

The answer, fortunately and unfortunately, was an obvious one.  
_

Getting out of Venture Tower was fairly easy, considering. The penthouse itself was generally unoccupied, with only the odd cleaning lady or guy going about their tasks. Once I left the area I found myself in the marble covered office area. This place was a bit more tricky, but I kept my head down and pulled out the blackberry I had also been given, silently tapping away like it was some important email. I wore a business casual rose coloured sweater and black jeans that night, so I blended in quite nicely with the other late night office workers.

At times I sensed a supernatural presence pass by, but when I sneaked a look it at their pale predatory faces, it thankfully was never the one immortal I was trying to avoid. I wasn't surprised by these encounters; they weren't the first stranger vampires I'd come across here and I assumed they were Camarilla agents or something.

I tried to come up with an excuse to tell LaCroix if I did manage to run into him. Gym? Not good enough, my clothes were too nice. Gun club? Again, no good, because the place closes in about ten minutes. Restaurant? Maybe, but then he might a) want to accompany me, and/or b) ask what was wrong with the food back at the penthouse. I suppose I could tell him that I just wanted to get out of the penthouse and decided to go get some dessert from the restaurant just for a change of scenery. That's it, that's what I would tell him. I just wanted a change of scenery.

I was so preoccupied with my scheming that I just about ran into the man. I was just turning a corner when in the front peripherals of my vision I espied a blonde head. I don't know what instinct told me to hide, as there was more than one fair haired male in the crowd tonight, but as soon as I saw it I quickly yet casually swung back around and hid in a niche around the corner, almost too scared to breathe. I could hear LaCroix's voice floating around the corner, and I thanked every lucky star out there that I had trusted my gut.

"Tell Jameson that I need those reports by Monday, about an hour before the conference. And where is Watson? I need to speak with her about those production issues that were occurring in Canada a few weeks ago..."

A silvery rectangular vase in the corner of the hallway gave me a somewhat clear view of what was happening around the corner. A few older men and women stood in a sort of O-group around LaCroix, with the person himself standing with his back to the marbled wall. All of them leaned in towards their boss like he was whispering the secrets of the universe or something.

Funny; did any of them have any idea that the youngest looking person there was actually about four times their age? Was anyone suspicious of his obvious maturity? I mean, what sort of an early twenty-something self-made overnight billionaire (or so the common story goes) wouldn't be out partying or some such this late at night? Even now he conducted himself with the experience and manner much closer to a 60 year old businessman rather than a boy straight out of University. Maybe it was because I already knew what he was, or because of that weird sixth sense being a ghoul provided me with, but the undead always seemed to stick out somehow. Whether they were too beautiful, too knowledgeable, too graceful, or anything else, they all were highlighted in my mind's eye.

Eventually, LaCroix moved on down one of the arms of the T shaped intersection, thankfully in the opposite direction of the elevators. I slipped inside of one, crowded in with the rest of the late night work horses. I tensed up slightly as I sensed a vampire in the back corner, a red haired, serious looking woman holding a clipboard in one hand and a briefcase in the other. She paid me no mind, however, and got off on the 57th floor.

I stepped into the lobby, preparing myself for one last hurdle: Desk Security.

Officer Krantz was on shift, and I cursed inwardly. Damnit, the guy knew me by name. Chances were that if he saw me, he would either want to chat, or if LaCroix came by would mention my leaving the building. I stalled behind the wall of the stair case, wondering what the hell I was going to do. Luck, it seemed, was with me again, as an elevator door dinged and a group of yuppy's (a.k.a. Young Urban Professionals) came bustling out, talking about statistics and reports and other business jargen that was way over my head. As they passed by I surreptitiously joined their group, sticking to the side furthest away from the desk. A few seconds later, I stood on the sidewalk outside of Venture Tower, feeling absolutely triumphant that I had gotten out undetected. It was a feat worthy of one of Lydia's exploits. All I had to do now was flag down a taxi.

It took a few minutes, ironically harder than my elope from Venture, but after attempting to wave down cab after cab, a yellow 50's style car pulled up. The driver in front had short black hair, wore dark clothes, and to my surprise wore a pair of really dark sunglasses, despite the fact that it was almost ten o'clock at night. I didn't sense a vampiric presence about him, so I supposed his shades were for some sort of eye condition. But then again, if he had an eye condition, what was he doing in the driver seat of a car? I decided to get in anyways. Hell, if an LA cab business hired him, he must be safe, right?

"Where to?"

"Santa Monica." I told him. "In front of Trip's Pawnshop on Main Street." I got into the passenger seat and buckled my seat belt as we pulled into heavy LA traffic. After a couple of minutes, the driver spoke. "Are you heading down to the pier tonight? I hear it is closed for a murder investigation." His accent was heavy, though I couldn't identify its origin. Somehow it reminded me of Bram Stoker's Dracula. "No, I'm meeting a friend so we can, uh, go clubbing." "You don't sound like you come from here. From what country is your origin?" "I'm Canadian. Toronto born." The driver nodded as if it made sense. "Are you by chance a Ms. Alice Kepler?" I glanced sharply at him. "How do you know my name?" "I apologize if I have alarmed you. I read about your tragic story in the newspaper a few nights ago. I am truly sorry for your loss." "Thanks," I murmured, thinking hard. I didn't remember any sort of article in the paper, or anyone trying to contact me for it. I said as much to the driver.

"The article said that you were unavailable for an interview, and that you were mourning for your family. Or at least, that is what your new guardian said." "Guardian? What guardian? I'm eighteen years old, I don't have a guardian." "Forgive me, but that word is the closest I can come to being accurate, at least by what I see. Is Mr. LaCroix not like a guardian to you?" "What? No! Of course not. He's just my boss, and I don't know if this was in the paper or not, but he's just letting me stay at his penthouse until I can get back on my feet. As soon as I earn enough money, I'm moving out." "You work for him? What do you do?" Uh oh. I sputtered out answers, trying not to seem too uncomfortable. "I, um, work in the marketing department. Right now, I just do errands and stuff, nothing exciting. But I do get to sit in on some really interesting focus groups, so that's a plus..."

In terms of lies and fabrications, this guy was giving me the run for my money. I admit lying was a well trained skill I was not proud of, covering for Lydia whenever the need rose, which was rather often. I had no idea why I was even defending myself to this stranger, or why I was telling him anything in the first place. Since when was my life his business? Honestly, I've met some chatty cab drivers, but usually they only speak of surface things, like celebrity gossip or local happenings. Then again, this was a local happening, so I guess it was fair that he would be curious. But come to think of it, it was strange that there wasn't anyone wanting to see me about what happened. I know that murder was sadly not a new thing for humans, but a murder-victim taken under the wing of a reclusive multi-billionaire must be an interesting story somewhere. And what about the police? Why hadn't they contacted me? Surely they'd want a witness statement, to know what happened and to get descriptions and stuff. One thing was for sure: I had questions for the Prince, if I ever could gather up the courage to ask them.

A few minutes later we slowed down, and the rusted yellow cab came to a halt in front of in front of a grimy building. I quickly got out and dug out some cash in my pocket, pausing only to figure out the different bills that made up the American currency. With my cab fare paid, I turned around and hurried into the darkness.  
_

The cab driver sat in his car, watching the girl go. So knowledgeable. Smart, strong. And with the words of the crone an undercurrent to her every word...

Yes, she would do nicely.  
_

I traveled down the alley, all my senses alert for danger. Understandable, considering what happened the last time I went down one. The thought brought a stab of pain to my chest. How could we have been so stupid? If only my mother hadn't... If my father didn't... If I had just said something...

"BOO!"

I nearly screamed as a monstrous figure materialized before me. I sagged against a nearby dumpster holding a hand to my chest as my heart raced. "Holy fuck," I gasped. "Oh my God... Lydia?... What the hell..." A piercing laugh came from the creature in front of me, jagged teeth barred in my direction. "Ali, you should have seen the look on your face! I swear to God you looked like you were having a heart attack." I sighed internally. It was Lydia all right. But her voice had changed, becoming a rasping mockery of her old lyrical tones. It pained me to see her this way: her skin a greenish yellow, boils everywhere, a bald head with a face that looked like it had been stretched painfully over the skull. I stood up feeling a little shaky, and, on impulse, made myself hug the creature in front of me.

"Hey!..." said Lydia, surprised. Slowly her own arms circled around me, tightening to an unusual looseness. Of this I was thankful. Lydia's hugs as a human were painful enough, I hated to think what would happen if she forgot her strength as a vampire just once. When we stepped away from each other, she looked at me and grinned. "Wanna see my crib?" she giggled, offering me a clawed hand. I was loathe to spend any more time away from the Ivory Tower then was absolutely necessary, but I knew it would make her feel better if I agreed. Taking her hand, I followed her into the side door and up the stairs.  
_

The place was absolutely filthy. A pizza box mouldered in the corner of a stained counter top in the tiny kitchen. Hidden flies buzzed in the single room apartment, and I saw a cockroach duck into a crevice in the wall. I resisted the urge to gag at the smell.

"This is your place?" I asked, a little incredulous. Apparently the Prince's generosity extended only so far, especially considering Lydia's charity case. Bouncing playfully on the coverless mattress Lydia's ruined lips twitched, but she said nothing. The ugly green wallpaper peeled off the walls, and I found the TV was lousy at best when I turned it on. An old radio sat on the counter, but I didn't feel like turning that on too. Besides, we still had work to do, and every second we spent here was another second for LaCroix to come back to the penthouse and discover my little escapade. "Come on, Lyds," I said. "We gotta get moving before we're caught." "Agreed." She sighed, and came down from her wannabe trampoline. With that, we slipped outside towards our appointed task.  
_

**morgan145: haha! another chapter, instantly! Oh, ok, I guess I cheated a bit. I was working on this chapter for ages, and was originally supposed to be a part of the Ocean House Chapter, but I figured it would be way too long and take away from the story if I did that, so I separated it. Sorry about lying to you, the last chapter was going to be the interlude, and I guess it was, but we won't get to the actual Ocean House till next time (WHICH WILL COME SOON!). Also, I wanted to point out (if it wasn't already obvious) that another main purpose of this chapter is to illustrate the sort of bond Lydia and Alice have. It's uber strong, strong enough to overcome even Bloodbond fairly easily. Anywho, thanks for reading!**


	17. The Ocean House

Sebastian was going over the agenda for his next meeting when he found out about Alice's elopement.

His blackberry lit up on the table beside his carefully laid out notes (about some diamond prospects in Africa), signalling the arrival of a message with a trendy graphic of a stylized letter. A lesser Camarilla ghoul, placed just outside the main doors for this very reason, had fulfilled his task with a simple text.

she left, headed for trip's pawn shop in santa monica.

With a slightly irritated sigh, Sebastian slapped down the device and stared at a spot on the wall for a moment, the wheels of his mind turning.

An Old Soul, especially an ancient, was rumoured to have the capacity to resist (to some small extent) the emotional power of Blood Bond, Strauss had said. This was simply due to an accumulation of unconscious willpower built up over dozens of lifetimes. Because of this he had been cautioned against any tests of loyalty, at least until after she had been fed his blood at least twice. But his Ventrue curiosity was piqued, and so when he had given Mercurio the cellphone to give to the Fledgling he omitted the fact that she wasn't supposed to use it to call Alice. And so he had lost this little popularity contest.

She had done it. Completely, flat out disobeyed him. He had to admit, to have the will to resist her master's orders especially so soon after feeding was quite impressive. Perhaps he would have to give her more blood sooner than he had anticipated...

This did not, however, negate the fact that he now had to bring her back as soon as possible, as well as play the infuriated keeper. Which wasn't hard: Not only would he waste an agent's valuable time to find her and bring her back, but he also felt a knot form in his stomach at the thought of what would happen if she managed to get herself killed. Like angering a very powerful Tremere Elder and losing a competitive edge, among other things.

With swift, precise movements he picked up the blackberry and thumbed through the contacts. First and foremost he would try to get a hold of her. After all, what sort of beneficiary guardian wouldn't want to know where his charge had gone as soon as she went AWOL?

The phone rang, while an impatient Prince ground his teeth and gripped the thing so hard he could hear the plastic creaking dangerously. He didn't care. He waited anxiously for a human voice to answer on the other end.

Instead, Silicone Sally told him in machine-warm tones to leave a message after the beep. So when he spoke, he schooled his voice to a soft curtness, making it clear that he was very displeased. "Ms. Alice, it has come to my attention that you have left the building without my knowledge or permission. Needless to say, I am very disappointed with your choice of action, and bid you to come back here at once. We'll speak about your behaviour upon you return." He ended the call.

He thumbed through the contacts list again. Selecting a number, he clicked the call button and waited patiently for an answer. The phone clicked as the receiver picked up. "Isabelle here. What is it tonight, my Prince?" "The girl is missing. I need you to go to Santa Monica and find her, immediately." The Toreador's pouty drawl sounded over the line. "Certainly, right away. But why me, of all people?" "I am sending you because you're the closest right now. Do not try my patience with childish questions, Toreador, I am in no mood for it. Now hurry. I want her back here within the next hour." Ending the call, Sebastian checked the time and let out a sigh of disappointment. There was no point to keep looking over personal reports now. He would have to do that later.

Composing himself for his next meeting, he left the room with his now ruined temper simmering.  
_

Sewer filth sloshed around our feet as we traipsed through the dark tunnels underneath Santa Monica. It seemed that the Ocean House couldn't be accessed from the main gate at this time of night, though I had no idea why. In order to pass the time, Lydia and I talked. We exchanged our stories, and moved on to more subjective questions.

"So life's awesome at the Ivory Tower, eh? Sounds like your living the good life now." I nodded in the dark. "Like I said," I answered, "The Prince treats me pretty well." A low snigger from Lydia made me glance at her sideways. "What?" "Oh, nothing, except that you gotta admit, "Prince" fits his description all right. That's one hot vampire you've got there. And all to yourself too." I blushed furiously in embarrassment, but I wasn't surprised by her comment. Typical Lydia.

"Ok, I admit, he's very handsome. And charming. But I love Johnathan. And even if I did want him, it wouldn't go anywhere. I've gotten the impression that dating and love are the last things on any vampire's mind." The Nosferatu smirked. "I believe you..." I groaned inwardly. Wanting to get off this topic, I gave her a playful push. "Enough about me for now, what's up with you? What's it like to be a vampire?" I asked, genuinely curious. "I dunno, it's weird. I mean, sometimes I remember that I'm a vampire, and that I can do lots of really cool things. But it's hard, damn hard. I've never had to do this before. I mean, constantly hiding from people. And if I'm spotted, I could be killed, so I have to be extremely careful." She sighed. "I miss being pretty, Alice. I used to be able to walk into a club and have heads turn and guys fall all over me. Now, if heads turn it's a bad thing, and everyone looks at me like I'm some sort of freak." The fledgling sighed, and the silence stretched on.

"What happened that night, Alice, when you were mugged?" she asked suddenly. I concentrated, thinking back to a couple of weeks ago. What the heck had driven us to go down a dark alleyway in downtown LA at night? "Well, we were late going to a show. Apparently the tickets were expensive, and the show exclusive, so Mom and Dad really wanted to go. We were going to go around the block, but then we saw an alley that cut straight through to the other side. It looked clear; there weren't any crevices that we could see, or anybody inside. So we decided to go down it, get to the show on time..." my eyes pricked with tears as I raged inwardly at our stupidity.

"We were about half way through when the thugs jumped us. They grabbed Mom, tried to take away her purse. Dad tried to stop them, but they just shot him, and then Mom for resisting. My brother tried to be brave, tried to tell them to go away. But they just laughed and pushed him to the ground. When he tried to get up, they shot him too." I had to stop for a moment in order to ride the waves of emotion rising up in me. "They turned on me next. They were planning on having some fun with me, but it was kinda rainy and cold that night so they decided against it. They put a couple of bullets in my body and left me there bleeding to death. I don't think it was too long after that when Prince LaCroix found me." "Then he fed you his blood to save you, and now you're a ghoul." "Yup, that about sums it up."

"Wow... Alice, I'm so sorry that happened... God, I hope someone catches those bastards." "Yea... Actually, the more I think about it, the more... sometimes I feel I should have done something, said something. I mean, I should have realized..." Strong hands gripped my shoulders, and Lydia's gaze held mine. "Now you listen to me, girl, and listen to me good. It wasn't your fault, ok? There was no way you could have known that was going to happen. Alice, you're always doing this, beating yourself up over this sort of thing. You have to stop! You act as if you're older than everyone else, but you're only eighteen." Her blue eyes held my own. "Okay? Can you do that for me? Just stop blaming yourself for these sorts of things. Now come on, we have ourselves an item of the spirits to fetch." We had stopped beside some bars with a door inset in them. Behind those bars was a ladder leading up. After giving me a hug and taking out a key from her jean pocket, Lydia unlocked the door, gave the rusty ladder a look of dismay, and began climbing.  
_

I examined the building from my spot on top of a nearby dune of gravel and dirt. The place must have been magnificent back in its day. Tall black windows stood row upon row and were set into sand coloured walls, with a dark blue sloping roof like an old lady's sleeping cap. A creepy old lady's sleeping cap. The front of the place was lit up by a few spotlights littering what used to be the front lawn as well as some of the original outside lights, giving the already creepy notion of an abandoned hotel a more scary cast.

"This is it." sighed Lydia. "The Ocean House." "I hope you see the irony in all this." I muttered. "Let's get going. I'll do my best to scare away the boogyman for you." The fledgling groaned. "Not funny, Ali."

We headed down the slope towards the construction trailer to go find a key to the house, for it probably was locked up at night along with the main gates. Swinging open the door to the makeshift office, we began our search. It didn't take long to find it, but as I shuffled through some papers, random lines of reports stood out as if highlighted: Workers being mysteriously pushed down stairs, objects moving on their own and sometimes seemingly thrown at labourers, as well as strange shouts and cries coming from within the walls.

I tried to dismiss this as purely coincidental, like any sane mind would, but that didn't stop my hair standing on end. Before we left, I grabbed a flashlight from the office.

Gravel crunched beneath our feet as we walked along the ruined lawn. As we neared the House, I was struck with a profound feeling of déjà vu. The feeling only got stronger as we climbed the steps to the porch, making me drift into a sort of haze. I reached for the handle of the old door.

Without warning, one the old fashioned lights beside the door exploded, eliciting yelp of surprise from both of us. I looked at Lydia. She looked back at me. I mentally shook off the scare, and without a word I proceeded ahead of her.

The front foyer stretched off on either side of us to both ends of the house. A balcony wrapped around the second floor, while a dramatic grand double staircase lay directly in front of us. Just beside it and underneath the balcony was a reception desk of sorts, with dozens of little metal boxes behind it against the wall. Lydia glanced around fearfully, no doubt just waiting for something scary to happen. I shook my head and headed towards the desk. I really ought to sign in...

"Alice, WATCH OUT!"

Lydia launched herself into my side, sending us both sprawling to the floor. A loud crash sounded right behind us, and when I looked, I felt the color drain out of my face. One of the large ancient chandeliers had pulled itself loose, and had landed exactly where I was walking a split second before. There was no doubt in my mind that had I very nearly died. I shook as I pushed myself to my feet and helped Lydia up. "T-thanks." I stammered. "Idiot! What were you thinking?" Lydia shouted. "Didn't you see that that thing was about to go? You have to be more careful!" I nodded sheepishly, silently berating myself. What HAD I been thinking? This place has been closed for years, why the hell would I ever think that I needed to check in? From now on, I had to really pay attention so I didn't get brained by more falling furniture.

Stepping around the broken chandelier, I looked around the place. "Do you think this 'item' will be on the ground floor? Do you even know what it is?" I asked. I was feeling antsy. Already this was taking too long. "No." came the dejected reply. "The Baron just said 'an item of the spirits'. She didn't tell me exactly what that was, though." Lydia had moved towards the grand staircase and was now gingerly testing one of the steps leading upward. She took a step upwards, than another. "Her name's Therese Voerman, and she owns this nightclub in Santa Monica, called the Asylum. She's kind of a bitch actually, kind of reminds me of Mr. LaCr- AUUUUUGH!" With a tremendous crack of breaking wood, the stairs caved in and Lydia disappeared amidst flying splinters and dust.

"Lydia!" I cried, rushing to the jagged hole. I was relieved when I saw movement down in the darkness. "Hey Lydia, are you ok?" "Yea, I'm fine, just a little bruised." her eyes were highlighted in the dim light as they stared up at me. "Here, lower your hand and pull me up..." Suddenly her pupils dilated in terror. "Behind you!" I twisted around where I leaned on the stairs...

And came face to face with a pale, black haired woman in a bloody white dress.

Slowly, leisurely, she reached towards my throat, a corner of her mouth raised ever so slightly in a cold, cold smile. A soundless scream clogged my throat at the gory sight and I fell back against the stairs. Instinctively I scrambled backwards... and found myself falling. In my haste I had forgotten about the hole. The next thing I knew, I was extricating myself from a flattened Nosferatu. I immediately turned to look up at the opening. The figure was gone, to my relief.

Behind me Lydia groaned. Getting up, I turned on my flashlight and assessed my surroundings. Dark, dank walls in all directions. "Where do you suppose we are?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck. My heart was still slamming around in my chest from my recent encounter. Lydia stood up and frowned. "I think we're in the basement." "Great." I muttered. Stuck in the basement of a hostile, haunted hotel. If there was any doubt in my mind that ghosts were real, it was gone now. Taking a closer look at things, I noticed a hallway in one of the far corners. "Come on," I said, taking Lydia's arm.

There was nothing more terrifying that taking a trip down a dark hallway in such an environment. The hair raising feeling of being watched followed us all the way down the hall. My heart leapt when I saw a light at the end of the hallway, and we came upon an open area a few moments later. A single lightbulb lit up one of the doors, but there wasn't a door knob. A dark space off to our left suggested another hall, but the other lit up hallway beside the door was by far more appealing. Lydia gripped my arm as we traveled down it.

Just as we came upon an intersection, a terrified, gasping scream pierced the silence. Lydia's fingers dug into my arm as a girl, bloody like the woman, raced passed us and down the other corridor, looking behind her with frightened eyes. It happened so fast that we almost weren't sure that it had even occurred. We stood there, frozen in place and clinging to each other, waiting to see what was following her. When nothing appeared we let out a breath. "I wish we had never come here..." came Lydia's terrified whisper. I swallowed and nodded in acknowledgement.

We pressed on, and soon came upon another steel door. This one had a knob, and when I tried it it was unlocked. The door swung on open with a shriek, gunshot loud. Inside was a steel desk covered in dust with a yellowing newspaper on top. I wandered forward and silently read the headline with Lydia close behind. As I did so, a terrible sense of horror and regret formed at the pit of my stomach. "'Child's Severed Head Found in Hotel Laundry Room'" I read out loud.

The door slammed shut. We whirled around, then started back as someone (or something) began to pound on the door on the other side. The light above our heads burst, making us to scream in unison. The door was shaking, like someone was pulling on it violently. Lydia and I pressed ourselves up against the wall, wondering just what the hell we were going to do. Suddenly Lydia's eyes widened and she turned around, scrabbling at the wall's base.

"What are you doing?" I cried. The knob was loose now, hanging from the hole completely broken. Lydia yelled back at me. "I can feel a draft here! I think there's a weak spot in the wall." She was ripping chunks of cinderblock out of the divide, a testimony to her supernatural strength. "Hurry..." I pleaded. With a loud 'thunk', a wedge shaped dent appeared in the door. Kind of like an axe... "Hurry!" I hollered as a second dent appeared in the door. A third blow split the metal. A bloody axe head poked through the gap. Finally, with a loud scrape Lydia removed the last of the rubble.

"Come on!"

I didn't need any more encouragement. I immediately went on my belly and drag-crawled through the small hole. I turned around and grabbed Lydia's hands as they came through after me. There was a crashing sound on the other side, and I knew that the door had come off its hinges. I yanked at Lydia with all my might, and she slid through the opening. We sat there a moment, breathing hard as footsteps slowly approached from the other side.  
_

Lydia clung to Alice as the slow crunch of feet came closer and closer to the opening. Her imagination was in hyperdrive: the footsteps would reach the hole. There would be silence, and just when they thought that it was over, he would come tearing through, hacking and slashing...

There was a quiet 'click!' and a slow creaking sound behind them. Alice twisted around, but Lydia was too scared to look, too scared of what might be waiting for them.

"This way..."

The voice came out of nowhere, a girl's voice, like a soft sigh yet it was as clear as a bell. It was then that she realized that Alice was talking to her. "Come on, Lydia, this way!" The other girl was hauling the Nosferatu to her feet and pulling her towards an open door at the back of the small room. Just as they went through, the metal door slammed shut behind them. Alice, who was pushing Lydia out the door, let out a yelp. "What happened?" demanded Lydia. "Nothing, the door just clipped my heel, that's all."

She watched as Alice removed her black low heel shoe and peel off the sock. The sharp tang of blood suddenly sweetened the air, and Lydia stared as a single ruby drop of liquid drip to the floor. She could hear the tiny splash it made as it made contact with the ground. Lydia shook herself from her stupor, and glanced up to meet Alice's stare. Her eyes held a frightening depth, something that wasn't unfamiliar to Lydia but no less unsettling. They saw and knew more than they ought to. They held something else as well: sadness.

But no resentment. Even now, Lydia realized she could expect no less from her friend. While she had always kept the bullies away from Alice, Alice had always been the one that she could always rely on for everything else, especially acceptance and direction. There was no way she was going to let her down now.

Without another word, Alice replaced her shoe, took her hand, and continued on.  
_

As we rounded a corner, we heard a curious sound. A low hum of a machine could be heard through the cinderblock walls. Lydia and I looked at each other. We had always agreed on the stupidity of the person in any horror movie who investigates the strange sound or sight. Yet here we were, doing exactly the same thing. We stepped quietly down the corridor, almost too afraid to breathe. The source of the noise seemed to come from a side room. A sign on the door read "Laundry Room".

"Let's not go in there." said Lydia. "We have to, I think," I whispered back. I reached forward and slowly opened the door. Nothing unusual happened, except that the sound got louder. We went inside, and quickly found what was causing the noise. To our horror, one of the washing machines was running and something was rattling inside it. Terror gripped me as the words of the headline swam into my mind's eye. Oh God, please no...

A few moments later it stopped, and the side door popped open. Someone wanted us to look inside. Lydia dragged on my arm as I stepped forward. Gingerly, I opened the door the rest of the way... And was puzzled. A key lay at the bottom, with a leather tag attached. I picked it up and read the faded label. "Boiler Room Key" I said. "I guess the ghost wants us to go there." We left the room, but not before we checked the outside hall first to make sure it was clear.

It took us another few minutes to find the boiler room, which was lit up with red light. The door screeched uproariously as it opened, and Lydia and I began to navigate our way down the tight stone stairway. At the bottom we came upon a room full of –what else?- boilers. The old rusty contraptions of another decade. We saw that the far corner was lit up by another red light. Unsure of what else to do, we proceeded over there, only to find a switchbox which lay beyond a chain link gate. The switch was turned off.

"Well, I guess we ought to turn it on." Lydia said. To my surprise, she detached herself from my arm and opened the gate. She reached for the lever, got a firm grip on it, and pulled it upwards. The effect was immediate. The power flickered on, but all the boilers began to spew hot steam and rupture. I cried out in pain as several burst rivets smacked into me with bruising force. Lydia seemed to be having a hard time as well, turning away from the danger and covering her face. "We have to get out of here!" I shouted over the racket. I pulled open the gate, and Lydia came out. Together we ran through the gauntlet of hot steam and rivets. One hot piece of metal cut my lip a bit, while another burned a welt into my side. We dashed up the stairs and didn't stop until we were out in the hallway again.

Now all the lights were on. It would have been a welcome touch, if the circumstances weren't so creepy. We wandered back to the front of the basement. The originally darkened hallway was now brightly lit, and a glowing yellow sign indicated an elevator nearby, and so we followed the hall until we found the rusting bronze contraption. Personally, I didn't trust an aging lift in a haunted house, but I damn well wanted to get out of there. We stepped inside, and the door shut of its own accord and the elevator began to rise. When it opened again, we were on the second floor balcony of the Ocean House. Quickly we stepped off into the brightly lit hallway. Rounding the corner, I stopped as something caught the corner of my eye. There, in the shadows, was that...? I blinked and looked again, than shook my head. For a second there, I could have sworn a man had been watching us from the shadows. Not doing anything, just watching. Lydia's exclamation startled me though. "Look! Over there on the other side." I looked.

A woman stood on the opposite side of the grand staircase of the balcony. My hair stood on end as I realized it was the same woman who had tried to throttle me on the stairs earlier. "Lydia," I began, but was interrupted when something large and solid smacked my back, causing me to stumble forward. "What the hell?" I snapped, turned around. Then stopped. An oil painting that had been sitting on the wall behind us was now lying at our feet. As if it was thrown. Lydia hurriedly grabbed my hand and lead me around the top of the balcony, which was a surprising and welcome change of roles. "It's ok, girl, we should be out of here soon. I think we're on the right track." She said as we walked. I nodded, but felt a little dubious of this observation. In reality, we were walking blind here; we had no idea that true intentions of our guide were.

As we approached the woman, the vase standing on the table beside her flew forward towards me. I had to duck fast to get out of the way in time. I looked back towards where the woman was, but she was gone. "Are you ok?" Lydia cried. I panted from my dive and the adrenaline running through me. "I'm starting to think this woman might be trying to kill me." I muttered. Lydia looked at where the woman had been, and back to me. Her eyes had changed all the sudden. They were still fearful, but now there was a hardness about them that made many a would-be bully back off back in highschool. "Let that bitch try. She'll learn real quick that this is still a vampire she's dealing with." I smiled at her words and got up.

There was a newspaper on the table where the woman was. This title was even more gruesome than the last. "Second Child Found Chopped Up Like Firewood". Another click sounded down the hall, and we saw the door at its far end open. It appeared that our ghostly guide had another clue for us. Lydia and I proceeded in its direction, and when we entered we found a nice, old fashioned bedroom covered in green wallpaper. Unsure of what to do next, we stepped forward.

The lights went out with an explosive crack of thunder. Shrieking, we grabbed each other. Slowly the lights came back on. Two words were revealed that weren't there before, carved into the wall above the bed as if with a knife into the very wood of the house:

Get Out...

Vases and picture frames began to rattle menacingly before they flung themselves at us. We both ducked to the ground, and escaped the onslaught relatively unharmed except for a porcelain shard slicing into Lydia's cheek. When we got up, I noticed one of the drawers of the bedside table was open. I quickly crossed to it, and found a second key, but the label was too worn to read, though I felt a vague feeling that I knew exactly what this was for. With another click and a creak of hinges, the double doors opened. We hadn't even realized that they had closed. Lydia and I immediately exited the room, but then stopped as we saw the woman again on the other side of the hotel. At this point, Lydia and I were getting just a little tired of these hints that kept leading to injury, but what choice did we have? We crossed the hotel.

The woman vanished just before we reached her, but not before she pointed a pale hand at another set of double doors and fixed me a look of pure hatred. When she was gone, I tried the door, but it was locked. Suddenly I knew what the key was for. Didn't I always used to forget it in my clothes? Startled, I shook off the strange thought and unlocked the door. The condition of this room was radically different from the one we were just in. The place was looked like someone had set fire to it. We stepped gingerly on the charred ground, hoping not to repeat the incident with the stairs. A fairly new looking square of plywood lay in the center of the room. We knelt down, and gingerly moved it from its place. A gaping hole in the floor lead, to our surprise, to an untouched bar area. "We probably have to go down there." said Lydia. "Probably," I muttered. I sat on my bum and put my legs into the opening.

"What are you doing?" she asked. "You seem to be taking all the falls lately, Lydia," I replied with poor humor. "I think it's fair that I go first this time." Before she could reply, I pushed forward and fell eight feet to the floor, ending up in a crouch as my knees bent to absorb the impact. I stood up and looked around as Lydia dropped in behind me. The bar was a cozy affair, with its warm browns and red upholstery. Another newspaper sat on the counter, but I decided I wanted to look around first before I had to race for my life.

A little toy dog sat on the booth tables, a little painted thing with four black wheels and a yellowed string to pull it with. After a moment, a sort of emotional exhaustion came over me and I put my head in my hands. Nothing, no movie or video game, had prepared me for this. In many ways this was all way beyond my level of creepy-tolerance to deal with. But I couldn't break down, not in front of Lydia. She was good at hiding post-fear, but right now the last thing she needed to see was me beginning to panic. Or go loopy. These weird thoughts and feelings were so strange, but to say anything to her may snap her tenuous moral.

"Hey Ali," said Lydia from the other side of the lounge.

"Yea?"  
"You know what this bar reminds me of?"  
"What?"  
"That place we used to go to after school sometimes. You know, The Indie Cafe?"  
I smiled. Lots of good memories flooded back to me. Steaming hot chocolate in the winter, ice cold pop in the summer, and that wonderful feeling that says it's gonna last forever.

"I'm going to miss that place." "Yea, me too," I murmured. I grabbed the string of the toy and began playing with it. Dragging it back and forth, along the table top. Such a simple movement was soothing.  
"Hey Ali," Lydia said again. "Yea?" "Do you think we can go back one day, when we're older? Just for old time's sake?" I closed my eyes. We both knew the answer to that. I looked up over to where Lydia stood, right by a pair of oak doors inset with warped glass.

Something caught my eye. A round, pale blur in one of the windows in the door. I squinted, trying to make it out. "Ali? What is it?" I kept staring, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. It looked like a face... "Lydia," I began, but it was too late. A bloody hand broke through the thick glass, grabbing Lydia around her arm. It was evident it belonged to a full grown man, who seemed to be wearing a torn orange and white chequered shirt. With an animal screech Lydia lashed out with her free hand, her long claws trying to tear deep into the skin. Except it wasn't working. The hand kept its firm grip on her arm. I looked around wildly, trying to figure out what to do. Then, to my surprise, Lydia pulled herself free. And proceeded to rip one of the benches from the booths out of the floor and shove it in front of the doors. Such an act should have at least required a crowbar and some time. But I would have to figure it out later.

It appeared that the axe murderer was back.

Loud woody thuds on the other side of the door made us start back in fear. Before long, the door was splintering and falling apart, more glass shattering under the impact. Frantically Lydia and I searched for a way out. We tried to go back up through the roof, but to our horror someone had moved the board back into place.

The bench scraped a bit across the floor. The door was starting to open inwards, bit by bit. The arm came back again, this time holding the axe and began to hack away at the bench. The yellow light began to dim and flicker a bit. "Where do we go?" Lydia shrieked. We grabbed a hold of each other, shaking in abject terror. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Once that thing got through, we'd be done for. I looked around one last time. This was it. I was gonna die in haunted hotel, victim to a phantom axe murderer.

I had to admit, I really didn't see that coming.

Just as I settled into the realization that I was going to die, Lydia did a double take at something behind us. She nudged me urgently, and began to pull me behind the bar. "Look!" she cried. At the end of the bar a large cavity had appeared. It took my fear fogged mind a second to recognize what it was: An old steel dumbwaiter, the sort of thing used in the old days to transfer stuff between floors. It would be perfect for us to escape.

Wood cracked ominously behind us. Hurriedly we stuffed ourselves into the box. It was a very tight fit. It was then that we remembered that we had no idea how to use a dumbwaiter. We checked everywhere in a panic, until suddenly the double doors gave in completely.

Time seemed to slow down. A man, dark haired and powerfully built, stepped through the debris. His face was strangely shadowed. He looked first left, then right. Slowly his gaze came to rest upon us. We sat there, motionless in our terror. My heart seemed to pound out the pace of the scene.

_Beat-beat... _

The man was running...

_Beat-beat... _

He was rounding the corner...

_Beat-beat... _

Raising his axe...

_Beat-beat-beat-beat... _

Only a few feet away...

_Beatbeatbeatbeatbeat..._

CLANG!

The doors of the dumbwaiter slammed shut just as the axe came down. With a terrible clash a wedge shaped dent appeared, aiming directly for Lydia's head. A barely human scream of rage sounded on the other side, but by then the dumbwaiter was moving. Going down.

We didn't leave our refuge for a long time. Even when it stopped moving we sat there, shaking and sobbing. "O-oh my God..." "...So fucking close..." "What the fuck was that?..."

Eventually, we managed to pull ourselves together. At this point I knew there was no way that my escapade would be missed back at the Tower. Even if I did somehow manage to get back before someone realized I was gone, the mere fact that I was filthy and injured would give away my little adventure. But all we could do now was try to move on, and hope that we were done soon. Tentatively I opened the doors.

We found ourselves in the basement kitchen, though it was barely discernable in the gloom. Gathering up our courage we stepped out to face whatever the hell else this place was going to throw at us next. Something metallic clattered to the floor directly in front of us, but at this point all we could muster was a half hearted flinch. I flicked on the flashlight to check out the disturbance, and found a pan on the floor. A red diary sat on the counter where it must have come from. I let Lydia look through it while I stood guard: in spite of her distaste for the academic sides of life, Lydia was an avid and speedy reader.

"Oh my God... there was a family here who was hotel sitting, but then the husband went crazy and chopped everyone up with an axe." "Sort of like in that movie?" "Yea, except real, I guess. And then the mother freaked out too. The diary ends with the girl who wrote it, who was the daughter, hiding from both her parents in a closet when smoke starts coming in from under the door." Lydia looked up at me. "That's some heavy shit right there..."

I must have nodded or something, but I was too busy reeling inwardly to tell. A bottomless cess pit of horror, pain and regret seemed to open up in my chest as she read, as well as a sharp spike of hot anger. Why did I do it? why, why, WHY?

I leaned heavily against a cold metal stove, heaving and gasping for breath. What was happening to me?

"Did you say something, Ali?" came Lydia's distant voice. I glanced up at her, and suddenly realized she had missed my entire lapse of control. Her back was to me, and she had her head cocked like she was listening to something. "...Something about somebody coming..."

A metallic rattling at the back of the room caught our attention. I swung the flashlight around to find a pot shaking on shelf, only to clatter on the ground a second later. As if it was pulled... "Get down!" I shouted, diving to the floor as a sudden storm of flying kitchenware kicked up. The danger was as terrible as the racket: a kitchen knife whizzed by me to embed itself into the steel counter a mere inch from my right cheek. Brief bursts of flame gave the chaos a strobe light's illumination, and in the corner the dancing shadows seemed to form the writhing shapes of two people fighting. One of them held an axe.

"We have to get out of here!" Lydia's voice was barely audible above the noise. I couldn't even see where she was from my position, but I did notice the open doorway in the corner across from me. I tried to pitch my shout so that Lydia could hear me. "Over here!" Keeping low, I managed to dodge most of the debris and duck through the door. In the back of my mind I couldn't help but notice that something had managed to knock the steel door off of its hinges. Lydia charged out, and together we pulled out the grating to a vent and crawled in. Behind us the noise died down, and I let out a sigh of relief when we reached the other end. Until Lydia spoke again. "Why do I have to be careful?"

Quite suddenly I felt myself propelled violently forward as if I was pushed. I crashed through the rusty vent grating with Lydia yelling behind me, "...Let go!..." I lay on the cold stone floor completely dazed, until I heard it. The squealing of metal on metal descended rapidly toward me, and I opened my eyes to find the elevator free falling down the shaft.

There was no time, not to scream, not to move, not even to throw up my hands. I closed my eyes against inevitability as Lydia howled my name.

"ALIIIIIIIIIIIIICE!"

What happened next was something I did not expect by any means. I felt strong hands grip my upper arms, and I was bodily thrown into a tiny space of clearance between the wall and the elevator. I barely managed to catch an impression of yellow and white cotton before I hit bricks and blacked out.

When I came to, Lydia was holding me and sobbing bloody tears uncontrollably. I was still in the small space, except it was emphasized by the steel box of the elevator sitting right beside me. "Lydia..." I murmured. "Thank GOD! Holy fuck I thought you were fucking dead! Thank you Jesus, Mary, Joseph-" "W-what happened?" "That bitch, that woman who's like trying to kill you, she held me back so I couldn't help you, a-and, well, I saw you move, and then the elevator came down but I had to check to make sure-" She clutched me to her chest for a second. "I'm just glad you're ok."

I sat up, and after a moment I got to my feet. "Jesus, I swear this is like about the third time you almost got majorly killed in this house." Lydia continued. She seemed on the verge of hysterics. "I shouldn't have brought you here, Ali, it was stupid. I'm such a fucking coward, that's why this happened. I should have just grown a pair, but nooooo, I had to bring you along. And now you almost got killed again by this stupid house that's trying to kill you-" "Wait, Lydia, I don't think that's true." I interrupted. I stopped to think for a minute before my revelation revealed itself. "About the house almost killing me for the third time, I mean. I think... I think the wife is trying to kill me and help you, while the husband is trying to kill you and save me." Lydia stared at me dumbly for a moment, before uttering a bewildered "what?"

"Here, I'll tell you about it while we move on." I started to climb the ladder that explained the use of the gap between elevator and wall.

"You know the axe murderer back at the bar? Well, I think I saw him back on the balcony. He was watching us." "That's kind of creepy, but ok..." "It gets better. Back in the bar, you know how when the guy swung his axe, it seemed to be aimed for you?" "How can I forget?" "That means he wasn't looking at me. If he was, the dent would have pointed towards me instead." "I still don't get your point." "But don't you see? You keep hearing voices, right? Because all those times you thought it was me, I didn't say anything. At all. Those warnings were meant for you and not for me." "Maybe your skull is just too thick for you to hear her."

I snorted. "Ha ha. But the most concrete piece of evidence towards my theory is this: I didn't get out of the elevator's way on my own, Lydia. I was thrown. And out of the corner of my eye I saw a yellow vest and a white shirt. We know that the wife doesn't wear that, and the husband does, and the husband has done nothing specifically threaten me, but he has towards you. Therefore, we are being protected by two different ghosts."

We had reached the top of the shaft. Four stories down was the elevator and a deadly fall, so we very carefully shimmied along a ledge until we were safely in the darkened hall outside. I smiled triumphantly at Lydia. "See what I mean?" "I guess... why would either of them favour one of us over the other?" I shrugged. "Who knows." Lydia sighed. "Well, that's an interesting theory and all, but right now we need to focus on finding that item of the spirits thingy." "Oh, you mean the locket?"

I clapped my hands over my mouth as Lydia stared at me. "What did you just say?" "I-I said that it's a locket." That I left on the reading table in the family room. I had no idea why I was saying and thinking these things, but I did know it was starting to really scare me. "Alice, what the fuck? What the hell is going on with you?" I scrambled for a legitimate answer, but I didn't know what to say. How do you explain to someone that you couldn't shake this feeling that you'd been here before, that you seem to know every corridor, every strip of paper and paint on the walls, without sounding absolutely crazy? You can't, plain and simple.

In the end, I didn't even get to try. The pale form of the woman appeared, standing quietly off to the side of the hallway. Her black hair hung in a curtain at the sides of her face, throwing it into deep shadow. I turned towards her, bracing myself for anything while Lydia stepped out in front of me. "Leave her alone." she growled. The woman ignored her. Instead she slowly lifted her arm to point a single accusatory finger at me.

"You..."

Her voice was soft, gentle, yet it managed to convey a deep and cold unquenchable rage in its quavering undertones. "I loved you..." she whispered. "I gave you my heart, my mind, my soul, our kids... and how did you repay me? With jealousy, and hate. I got that locket from my mother..." She began to move forward and lowered her arm. "But did you believe me? No. And when I begged for mercy, did you spare any of us? Even our children?" Blood began to leak from her abdomen as tears rolled down her cheeks. "Look at me..." she stepped into a pool of light. "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE TO ME!"

I tried not to scream as gory lacerations stretched across her chest, face, and neck. My legs grew weak from horror and I stumbled forward. The woman seemed to take this as a sign of attack and fled back down the hall. "Alice!" Lydia cried, but I was already in hot pursuit. My fear had been replaced by a terrifying need for answers, and I wanted them now. I veered around several corners and avoided several thrown vases, ignoring the shards of glass of exploding light bulbs all along the way. Lydia pounded along directly behind me until a door exploded outward and slammed her against the opposite wall. I tried to stop to help her, but my feet slipped on the bare floor and the momentum sent me crashing into the room ahead. The last I saw of the hallway before the door slammed shut was of a large dark shape slowly bearing down upon Lydia.  
_

The world was spinning. Why was the world spinning? And most of all, why wouldn't it stop?

Lydia rolled onto her side, groaning. Then froze. A dark shape loomed above her, and it was slowly raising something above its head. It's axe.

She rolled away just in time to miss being chopped in the skull. Leaping to her feet she avoided a side swipe by inches, then ducked another slashing chop. She couldn't see Alice anywhere, though she knew that she had run through that open door ahead. Which was now closed. The next blow managed to glance bluntly off her shoulder, eliciting a cry of pain and a small spurt of blood. Lydia glared at her attacker. It was time to end this.

Gathering up the rest of her strength, Lydia summoned it into her arms and legs in a burst of her Potence discipline. When the shape attacked again with another swipe, Lydia sidestepped to towards its exposed side. As fast as a thought, she leapt up and jump kicked him squarely in the chest, a manoeuvre her dad had taught her when she was six years old. As well as it had served her in any fight, it served her now. The force of the kick sent the shape reeling through the broken doorway where it tripped and fell backwards with a crash. But Lydia didn't stay to watch. She zipped over to the other door, and with her remaining Potence strength she burst through. Only to find Alice being throttled by the woman wraith.

She ploughed furiously into Alice, grabbing her around the waist. Darting across the room towards some fallen timbers, where she practically threw a dazed Alice up through the opening. Quickly she climbed up the worn splintered wood, not daring to look back. Once she was through she dragged Alice to her feet, mad dashing them both across the room. Just as they reached the door, flames roared up the walls beside them.

Something within Lydia seemed to clench, and for a second random, gut deep panic threatened to take hold. But Alice seemed to recover from her stupor, and she grabbed Lydia's hand and pulled her through the door and past the fire. As they rushed down the halls more fire sprung up, crawling up the walls and licking the ceiling. Lydia felt like a rabbit racing down an hourglass trap, with the walls closing in and having nowhere to run but forward. With a great leap they cleared a large flame filled gap in the floor, and then were forced to stop.

Great gouts of burning hot steam were bursting through the halls; Lydia could feel their heat from several heat away. "We have to crawl!" Alice shouted above the noise. "I'll go first. Just hold onto my leg and keep low." She dropped to her belly and crawled forward. Lydia did the same, but no matter how low she was she could feel the steam scalding the back of her neck. Eventually they got to the other side and got to their feet. Directly in front of them was a door, untouched by dirt, or, it seemed, time. It creaked open on its own accord. Lydia looked at Alice, who looked back. Taking each other's, they stepped through the door together.  
_

It was too bright. I squinted my eyes in an effort to stop their burning. When they adjusted my breath was taken away. An exquisite room, painted a soft leaf green and full of comfortable looking mahogany furniture, lay before us. Light streamed in through the windows, causing Lydia to flinch reflexively. But it wasn't burning her. The door swung closed silently behind us, shutting us off from the outside world as it was the only exit. We looked around in wonder at this weird place, which couldn't be real. I even checked my phone to make sure we hadn't just stepped into the full fury of dawn, which read 4:24 am. At the other end of the room was a table, and on it, to our relief, was a locket. We took a step towards our prize.

The door began to rattle and shake like it had in the basement, except far more violently. We looked back to witness an axe splinter easily through the flimsy wood, and then a feminine arm thrusting through to rattle at the handle.

We then did what we only could do: we ran like hell to grab the locket before the angry couple caught up to us. The door crashed open with a splintery roar. The end of the room wasn't far, if only I could just reach it...

I bunched my legs beneath me, and leapt for the table.

The furniture piece collapsed under me, and then all at once a cold cool breeze swept over me. I opened my eyes, rubbed them, and sat up.

The illusory Ocean House was no more. The burned wreck of hotel revealed that most of the room had given away long ago, including about 90% of the floor of which we were walking on. I even had a clear view of the ocean, and what looked like a large boat off in the distance. Lydia looked at me. "It's over, isn't it?" Lifting up my left hand, the locket dangled gracefully in the air. "Yea," I replied, my voice rather rough. "It's over." "Thank God." Lydia muttered.

We exited the Ocean House fairly quickly after that. The small wood space we rested on creaked dangerously underneath us, so we leapt off onto the floor below. The door creaked open mysteriously, to our minor consternation, but our task was done, and our only wish was to leave. We climbed down to the second floor via the elevator shaft. I allowed myself one last glance at the third story, then ducked out of the shaft. I didn't need to tell Lydia that the third floor was still burning with its supernatural flames.

Instead of taking the stairs to the bottom floor, we leapt from the balcony to the ground. As Lydia and I took our last steps within the Ocean House Hotel, we turned around to give this terrible place one last look. And started back as the girl from the basement, a terrifying moment that seemed years away now, stood calmly behind us. As we stared, she smiled and whispered, "Thank you.", and faded away into the darkness. Unsure of what else to do, we nodded in acknowledgement and left the Ocean House for good.

This would have remained a happy moment if not for Isabelle leaning nonchalantly against her Porsche across the lot.

I seized up in dread. Isabelle's presence could only mean one thing. Lydia noticed my expression and muttered "Friend of yours?" I nodded mechanically, and forced myself step by step over to where the red headed Toreador stood.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to find you here?" she called, her drawling voice carrying easily across the short distance. "First, I had to go to a tasteless apartment to go ask an injured ghoul where you're friend was. Then he told me that she was off to consort with a Baron at an atrociously shady club. And after that I still had to coax it out of that Ventrue wannabe with promises of a Camarilla Prince's retaliation if she didn't cooperate immediately, and darling you do not want to know how tiring that was. So do you and me a favour, sugar, and get in the car. LaCroix has been kept waiting for over six hours for your return, so I suspect that the sooner you get back at this point, the better for both of us."

Lydia snarled and started to say something, but I shushed her. I was in enough trouble already. "See you later," I mumbled, and handed her the locket. Lydia responded by giving me a tight squeeze and a whispered good-bye. As I got into the passenger seat of the car, Isabelle spoke directly to Lydia. "And Fledgling, next time you get an itching to call your friend out of turn and thus waste the Camarilla's time, I will personally be the one to orchestrate your punishment." With that, Isabelle smartly got in the car, slammed the door shut, and drove off, leaving a hissing and spitting Lydia in the dust.  
_

**morgan145: ah, another cha- holy crud this is long. Sorry everyone, I didn't mean for this bit to stretch out to nine thousand words. I think the document on my computer is like 15 pages long. In my defense, though, I meant to make an attempt at doing this amazing mission justice, while still trying to balance it out between Lydia, Alice, and LaCroix and their views, as well as trying to convey the sort of relationship Alice and Lydia have. I'm not entirely sure I succeeded, and I know I wasn't entirely accurate on the plot, but I must say that I have been looking forward to this chapter for a very long time. That being said: Guess who's the Ocean House Killer? I'll give you a hint; she doesn't know it. Yet. Sorry if I seem to be treating you like fools, but I just thought I'd point that out. Again, I'm not sure how effective I was on this. I wanted to demonstrate Alice's past life memories and how they can tend to pop up, seemingly out of nowhere and with unforeseeable intensity. I'll introduce more subtle elements to this later on, but until then I'll have to leave you with this. **

**Anywho, thank you SpecialAgentOrange for your insightful review; your speculations have actually given me some ideas for future chapters, so again, thank you! And a great big thank you goes to all my silent readers out there, I hope I can keep you guys interested.**

**That's all for now, folks!  
**


	18. Grounded by a Vampire

Prince LaCroix's pale fingers drummed a steady beat on his desk. I regarded this as I would have to my Aunt Emmie's psychotic cat's twitching tail: a very dangerous sign.

"So you're telling me that you not only disobeyed my orders and left the safety of my Tower to see your friend, but you also went inside of the Ocean House Hotel in Santa Monica?" His words were cold, like bare steel in a blizzard.

I nodded demurely.

"Tell me, Ms. Alice, did it not occur to you that if vampires exist, then perhaps maybe ghosts or wraiths might as well? And that they can be just as hostile as anything else?"

I cringed, because of course I didn't. LaCroix leaned forward with his elbows on his desk and touched the ivory colored tips of his fingers together. Icy eyes bored into mine.  
_

As soon as there was service, my phone was vibrating like crazy as missed call, voice mail, and text message alerts started to flood in. I checked them all as Isabelle sped down the freeway, and felt my gut clench as the Prince's tone, both in voice and in text, got angrier and angrier.

"This is the third time I have called..."

"...am _very _disappointed in you..."

"Call me back immediately..."

"...becoming increasingly displeased..."

"...we shall speak about your behavior when you return."

I shivered as I put the phone away. I was in for one hell of a verbal ass kicking. My gut clenched the same way it used to when I knew I was in big trouble when I got back home. Except this time it was worse, because I had no idea what LaCroix was going to do when I got back.

And yet I was still reeling about what had happened at the Hotel, about what happened between me and the ghost. What the hell did it all mean? A thought, like a whisper, wormed its way into my mind: Reincarnation.

I mentally shook my head. No, it was just too ridiculous to consider. Me, the Ocean House Killer? Sure, reincarnation had always felt like a very real spiritual possibility to me, but people only turned out to be something so dramatic in bad horror movies.

Right?

I pushed that train of thought away, too wierded out by the implications, and instead focused on the situation at hand.

Isabelle sped along the cold stretches of road back to Los Angeles, and I gulped inwardly as she broke every speed limit to get back to Venture. I really couldn't blame her; it was almost 5 o'clock in the morning, and the Sun would be rising soon. Her eyes were narrowed as they concentrated on the traffic ahead, while her rigid posture suggested that she wasn't too pleased about something. Probably me.

"I'm sorry" I said, rather quietly. Isabelle glanced at me, then sighed. "It's not you I'm mad at, dear. Granted, I was trying to finish up a particularly troublesome task, a lead, that will have to wait for another night." I flinched. "But never mind," she continued, "it's not me who you should be worried about."  
_

"I have been almost out of my mind with worry for the last 6 hours. At least had you simply been with your friend, discussing paltry things in her Haven, I could at least rest easy knowing that you have the common sense to stay out of trouble."

Strong fingers reached over the desk to grasp my chin while I was inspected once again. "Look at you! A cut lip, severely bruised neck and ribs, as well as an assortment of small cuts and splinters. And you're absolutely filthy! It would be a wonder if you didn't catch something after all this."  
_

"You said you had a lead you were following?" "Yes, the Prince asked me to look into those grisly murders that have been happening up and down the coast, especially after the one that happened on the Santa Monica Pier." "Why would he do that?" I didn't think that vampires cared about human lives that much. I was right. "Because it is obviously the work of a Kindred. You'll learn to see the signs: Torn to pieces, mauled, often in or left in plain sight. The stupider ones will even drain the blood out of their victims." Her red hair swayed as she shook her head. "Probably the work of a caitiff, an orphaned vampire who hasn't had anybody to teach it how to behave." she slammed a hand on the horn as someone moved to cut her off. "Sorry," Isabelle muttered. "I never really was patient with driving."

"What are you mad about?" I asked her as she flipped off a passing car. "Oh, the little things. Like the Prince calling me forty times or so, asking over and over if I've found you yet. Or waiting in front of that spooky House for you to come out. Or even that bloody Blood Bank employee making creepy quips at my condition when I tried to get a hold of his master." after a minute or so of silence she looked at me. "I don't blame you for what you did, you know." Isabelle said. Her voice was quiet, almost breathless, her nails sparkling like rubies as she reached over to squeeze my arm. "Unlike many, I understand that need to help a friend in distress. Personally, I didn't think it was very fair that LaCroix forbid you from even calling the fledgling." Lydia, I mentally corrected her. It also seemed a little odd she would know about that. Now her voice took on a more upbeat pitch. "It might also have to do with missing an incredible party downtown. A friend of mine was revealing his latest photo gallery to the public. Actually, I heard you are a bit of a shutterbug yourself, yes?" I nodded. "Too bad." Isabelle sighed, "I would have loved to have taken you along. Perhaps next time."

The entrance to Venture Tower loomed in front of us. "Now prepare yourself child, and don't expect a warm welcome."  
_

As soon as I had stepped into the lobby, I was greeted by Jane, if a cold glare and a snipped "Come along!" counted as a greeting. She and Isabelle stood solidly on either side of me like guards as the elevator shot up to the penthouse floor. The second the doors opened we were moving again, hurrying down the halls. All the while Jane explained to me with barely contained disgust about how I had terribly upset the Prince due to my obvious lack of self control, until Isabelle gave her a surprisingly vicious glare that shut her up. I couldn't help but note this in the back of my mind. It seemed like nobody I've met really liked Jane, except maybe her brother.

Instead of being lead to the main office, I was brought to a small windowless side room where a workplace was set up. Somehow, this well lit clean place was far more terrifying than any of the rooms within the rundown Hotel. It may have had something to do with who was occupying it.

The second I stepped into the doorway the Prince spoke. "Sit down." I did. He enunciated each syllable with knife sharp precision. "Now tell me, Ms. Alice, what you have been up to all night."

My monologue took me half an hour to complete. I purposely left out the more major near-death experiences. He was angry enough at my injuries as it was, which he had gotten up to look at while I spoke. There was no need to stir him up further. I did, however, tell him about all the strange instances of insight that had occurred during the course of my "adventure". It seemed too important to leave out. He seemed a bit interested, quizzing me for details about these moments before I was allowed to continue on.

Now he continued on with his earlier lecture. "Did you at least bring your gun?" I shook my head 'no'. "Why not?" I scrambled for an explanation. "I-I didn't think that I would n-need it, because I thought I was going to an abandoned house. And it's not even loaded..." There was also the fact that it hadn't even crossed my mind to take it with me, but I wasn't about to admit that. Then again, I might as well of said, "I thought it was a good idea to go running around downtown LA and Santa Monica at night without a firearm, even to bluff with it." Even as I thought about it I realized how stupid that was of me. LaCroix's next words were practically an echo as I thought about why. "You could have encountered anything out there: from a common thief to a squad of Sabbat shovelheads. Even in the Hotel you could have chanced upon some monster." He almost looked exasperated at this point. "In spite of it being unloaded, you could have used it to bluff your way out of a situation. At the very least a common mugger would have run."

"You were damned lucky you weren't killed. Your friend was lucky that she didn't get you killed." A single spark of outrage in my gut almost ignited a furious retort from me before he seemed to suddenly change tack. "Alice, you must understand, even Kindred tread carefully when they are in the domain of a wraith. If they have to look after someone who is considered a liability, as you would be as ghouls do not have the constitution of a vampire, then it makes it all the worse for them. Whilst I do understand that you felt the need to help your friend, she must learn to stand on her own two feet. Neither of you can afford to use the other as a crutch; please, try to see that I'm trying to help you both." LaCroix sat back in his chair and gave a heavy sigh.

"Understanding, however, does not negate the fact that you blatantly disobeyed me."

I shrank into my chair as LaCroix mused on his side of the desk, no doubt thinking of a suitable punishment for me. Finally, he passed his sentence. "Give me your phone."

I looked up at him. He raised an eyebrow threateningly. "Obviously I cannot trust you to not contact your friend with it. Or with your blackberry too, for that matter. Your movement around the Tower will also be strictly limited until further notice. Now hand them over." I was surprised by his decision. It seemed so... normal. Ordinary. I didn't think he would have had me whipped or anything (I hope!), but I certainly was expecting something a little more severe. A part of me wanted to cry out against being treated like a child. I was eighteen, damnit! I was old enough to make my own decisions. But he was trying to take care of me, I couldn't help but think. Keep me safe, and all I did was walk straight into a supernatural minefield. Of course he had a right to do this.

In spite of everything, somehow turning off and passing LaCroix those two lines of communication felt like the worst punishment in the world. And in a way, it was. This way I wouldn't be able to talk to Lydia at all, or for that matter, Johnathan.

Johnathan! I had completely forgotten about him in the last couple of days. How could this happen? I used to always talk to him every day, even if I didn't see him. I was supposed to answer those texts he sent me too. By now he must be tearing out his hair with anxiety, probably trying harder and harder to convince himself that everything was OK, that I was just busy or something. Now I couldn't answer him at all... Oh God, I hope he doesn't do something stupid. I had no idea how long this phone ban would last for, and I was too scared to ask LaCroix.

Trying to distract myself from my distress, I surreptitiously looked up at the clock. 6:15 in the morning. Startled, I realized that the Sun must have risen by now. In spite of the situation, I couldn't help but wonder something. Slowly, I moved my eyes to the Prince again and saw that he was, indeed, what I expected him to be: tired. It wasn't like human tiredness, where the eyelids droop and the person yawns incessantly. It was more like he was losing that animated feel to him, as if he was slowly being drained. I could even see a sort of unfocused look about his eyes. It was... odd, to see him this way.

My musings were cut short, though, as a sharp command rang out. "Now go. Off to bed with you. And I hope that in the future you will make wiser decisions."

I didn't say anything. I only nodded as I jumped out of my chair, backed out of the room until I was out of the door, and fled down the hall.  
_

Sebastian watched the Old Soul go, allowing himself a small smile of amusement. It was good to see that the girl was distressed; it meant that he already held quite a bit of influence over her. He had to wonder, though, if she realized she had just exited like some servant from another century. He could think of dozens of monarchies and lordship customs that had required for lesser born people to never turn their back on their masters, something which no modern child would ever be inclined to perform on their own. How interesting. That was eclipsed, however, by the events of tonight.

Who could have guessed? He was harboring a former murderer. He remembered reading an article in the newspaper a few decades back about the Ocean House Massacre and arson. He even remembered pondering over the photograph of the possible suspects for a moment, wondering at the potential for cruelty in man. Several chopped up children and two burned bodies. Each of them the parents, and either of them the potential killer. The part of him that would have been severely bothered had died a long time ago by then, but even still he couldn't help a momentary wave of disgust at the time at the sort of evils that had sprung up in the world. That sort of thing simply didn't happen back in his day.

A sort of cold uncertainty felt its way into his dead skin. Up until now, he supposed he hadn't quite taken this Old Soul business as seriously as he had first thought. Now there was solid proof, in the form of a wraith's accusations and too many insightful moments to be coincidence or mere fancy to wash away any last doubts that what he was dealing with was very, very real.

Sebastian supposed he would have to tell Strauss about this. The Regent would then probably want to meet her right away, and that would be bothersome. He still wasn't quite sure how he would explain to her her true purpose, but after thinking long and hard, he had decided to take Strauss' advice: tell her the truth, or at least as much of it as he felt was safe. Prince LA also wanted more time to prepare, but Sebastian knew that his time had run out. If he kept this quiet any longer any mention of it down the road would be disastrous to his standings with her, and the last thing he wanted to lose was her trust. He would have to proceed on the morrow, and simply hope for the best.

As if that didn't go against every Ventrue fibre in his body.

His head slowly starting to fuzz from the pull of torpor, a very perturbed Prince headed off to his bedroom.  
_

The door slammed to Johnathan's hotel room as he stormed inside, ignoring the blinding dawn sunlight. He was sick of waiting, sick of worrying. It had been almost a week since he had seen Lydia (tomorrow he would go to the police and file a missing persons report), and Alice hadn't answered a single call or text. Now, Johnathan's patience was gone, and tonight he would head to Venture Tower after office hours and demand to see Alice. And if pretty boy LaCroix decided to show up, well, look out hotshot. Knuckle sandwich coming right your way.

By now Johnathan knew something was wrong. Alice would have called him by now no matter how busy or tired she was, especially if she got the message about how Lydia was missing. Nothing had come back from her, however, and so Johnathan now knew that something was up.

Tomorrow, he would find out what.  
_

**morgan145: Ah LaCroix, you can be so damn intimidating, can't you? Though to be honest, I'm not sure if I was quite successful on conveying that fact during his lecture. Hmmmm...**

**So now Isabelle is trying to worm in Alice's good graces. It should be interesting to watch her silently duke it out against a Ventrue where loyalty is concerned, in spite of Alice's Bloodbond. I'm also looking forward to figuring out how LaCroix is going to tell Alice about why she's really there. Aaaaand, as a minor bonus, Johnathan is going to join in the fray. Next chapter, I promise you, will be utter chaos.**

**Edit: Added a few more points to LaCroix's lecture/rant by addressing the fact that Alice didn't bring her gun.  
**


	19. Slashtastrophy

Johnathan's concentration was already failing by the time he stepped into Venture Tower. It took every bit of his willpower to stumble up to the black granite reception desk where the fat man sat. For a moment it seemed like the world was doubled when he finally propped himself up against the smooth stone, until he steadied himself to keep from falling over.

Alright, perhaps stopping at the Last Round for a drink a few hours before had been a terrible idea, but he had to do something about that awful stinging pain in his chest as he thought about what he had to do. No, it wasn't what he planned to do that hurt him so much. It was the fact that it had to be done. As the alcohol had poured into his empty stomach, dulling that awful ache like dumping water on a flame (or was it like kerosene?) to the sound of a raging metal band, he happily fantasized to himself on how he was going to beat the shit out of Pretty Boy LaCroix. Now, as he blinked rapidly in front of the clearly concerned security guard, somewhere in the back of his head he felt himself wondering if he was sober enough to land even a decent smack.

"Alice... Kepler... please." He mumbled, though he was pretty sure it came out as "Alish" instead. Oh well...

The fat man - "Krantz", said his name tag – gave him a look that could only be described as saying "you have to be kidding me". "Sir, according to Building Code 351-C, I can't call for anybody especially after hours unless-" Johnathan couldn't believe the bullshit this guy was spouting, and so mild apathy swiftly turned into anger. "Are you telling me that you can't even press your little buzz button and just _ask_ the Big Man upstairs if I can see my goddamn girlfriend_ for one damn second?_"

There must have been something in Johnathan's eyes – or maybe it had to do with his clumsy pointing and waving, or something – because the guy just ducked his head, muttered an apology, and picked up the phone. That was good. Great. Whatever. He settled back on his heels to wait.  
_

When the metal bar finally ripped free of its concrete moorings, Lydia had to resist the urge to throw down the thing with disgust. It had taken her the better part of ten minutes to pull it out of its resting place in the quiet corner of the parking garage, and she still had another one to go before to could squeeze through the opening and sneak into the Gallery Noire. The only reason why she hadn't used a bit of Potence or even buffed herself with blood for a moment was because she was fucking hungry enough already from using Obfuscate to stay hidden from the guard patrols through the lot.

Clearly her night could not get any worse.

Really, her night hadn't started with any sign of promise. When she had woken up at 8 pm, Lydia jumped out of her skin when she saw something move out of the corner of her eye, only to find nothing on closer inspection. She had sat up with a growl, annoyed at her brief fright and reaching to the floor to grab the amulet from the Ocean House. Dragging herself out of bed and into the shower, she had stepped out to grab an unfortunately filthy towel when she caught an undeniable glimpse of a dark haired woman in the doorway. Her strangled scream as the woman vanished caused a neighbour to bang a broom handle against her ceiling, hollering for her to shut up.

After recovering from that little episode, Lydia decided that she'd rather not stick around to watch anymore poltergeist shit happen. Pulling on a reasonably clean pair of jeans and sweatshirt she had found in one of the drawers (better to not ask questions about their origins, she guessed) and her shoes, she shoved the amulet in her pocket and headed out into the dark streets below.

When she arrived at the Asylum a few minutes later the baby Nosferatu found, to her utter dismay, that her night wasn't about to get any better.

"Oh dear, little Duckling. Are we forgetting our manners, or have the times changed already and no one knocks in this new era? I could have been undressing, you know."

Jeanette's red stained lips twitched upwards into a quirky and coquettish smile, and Lydia found out too late that grinding jagged teeth together hurts like hell. "I'm here to see your sister." she said flatly. The fledgling didn't have time to trade weird words with the younger Voerman. The smile only broadened. "Oh, no can do little girl. Big Sissy's off to kiss the pant seat of the Camarilla, and she's left her sweet sibling to hold down the fort. It's ok though, I can take whatever you've got... for her, I mean." Instinctively Lydia wanted to clutch the amulet. No goddamn way she was going to give it up to Jeanette, not after what she had been through. Whoever thought that this vampire was going to be that stupid had another think coming.

The creepy nymphomaniac pouted in return to the doubtful look the Nosferatu gave her. "Oh, come _on_, sweetheart. I know you have a little present for me somewhere. I can see it through your jeans, what is it, a necklace?" Lydia forced herself to stay still, and not hover her hand protectively over her pocket. Instead, she said: "Only for your sister, Jeanette. Sorry." Jeanette's expression went from a pout to one of utter dejection. "Why not, Duckling? Do you think I can't even handle holding on to that amulet for you?" For the first time ever, Lydia thanked whatever entity that was out there that she had grown up with two bratty sisters who hated everything, including each other. No way in hell would she fall for this crap, not since she first did when she babysat her siblings when she was eleven years old.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I need to make absolutely sure that Therese gets this, in case-" "In case of what? That I mess this up? You think I can't even hold on to a stupid bauble until the Ice Queen gets back, is that it?"

Taken aback from this sudden show of rage, Lydia tried verbally backpedalling to no avail. The woman-child in front of her was hell bent in having her tearful tantrum. "It was Therese, wasn't it? You've heard her: she's always belittling me, blowing me off and acting like I'm no better than some stupid piece of fluff barely able to hold her hand!" Jeanette's face contorted into a mask of rage, her fangs lending her baby doll look a more disturbing appearance. "I've always done my best for her," she continued. "I've wheeled, deal-ed, and positively leapt through burning hoops like a toad to help our position, but nooooo, it's not good enough, is it?-" "Oh my God, I told you already that that's not why I'm giving this to you, now could you please calm down? I don't like Therese either, but I have to make sure she gets it personally, because after what I've been through to get this I don't want it to end up all being for nothing, OK?"

Silence. Sweet, blessed silence. Jeanette stopped her bitching in an instant. In fact, it was almost suspicious how she turned her freak-out on and off like a fucking switch. Goddamn manipulative bitch...

"Fine," the crazy vamp lady crooned. "You hold on to it. Better to keep it in your sticky-wicky capable hands for the present, eh Kitten? However, if you're so willing to brave that awful spooky house for the Ice Queen, I was wondering if you would do a simple short favour for little troubled me?" Fuck no, Lydia thought. "Depends on what it is," she said.

A few minutes and a very convoluted conversation later, Lydia found herself preparing to slash some paintings that were on display for a charity event. Alice sure as fuck would not approve. Neither did Lydia, to some extent. Why slash paintings, when she could just steal them? Or even some of the charity money, for that matter. Companies around the world donate millions to charities all the time, right? A few hundred bucks in her back pocket wouldn't be missed from the grand pile of goodwill cash.

But, she had promised, and so if only this last bar would just-

A finger tapped her shoulder.

Lydia froze, caught between wanting to squeal and jump behind the nearest car or turn around slowly like the world's worst case of being caught red handed.

The finger tapped again, this time more insistent. Lydia chose the latter of her split second choices, and carefully did a 180 to find... Wow, she certainly hadn't been expecting this. A punky looking dude in a white fur pimp coat and a... was that a Cat in the Hat top hat? He extended a black nailed hand. "Jester's not-Childe?"

Lydia blinked. "Umm... excuse me?" "Are. You. The. Princeling's. Pawn?" He barely made more sense this time, but finally Lydia got it. "'Prince's Pawn', yeah, I guess. I work for Prince LaCroix." The other guy grinned, showing pointy canines in a feral smile. "Perhaps we should do this dark deed together? Slashing putrid paintings sounds just like a wet dream." For a second Lydia wasn't sure just what to say to that. To be honest, a part of her wanted to run. Really, really fast.

"I work for the almighty Jester Prince himself. This shattered one before you is called Joelle... There seems to be a metallic protrusion in your way. Allow me, my Lady." He reached forward.

CRACK!

With what seemed like hardly any effort on the man's part, the last iron bar came free. It hit the ground with a sharp clang while the guy brushed his hands together and Lydia flinched. Damnit, someone could have heard that! With a rather awkward nod of thanks, Lydia hopped through the opening into the alley, jimmied the lock of the side door, and disappeared into darkness inside.  
_

The elevator gave a soft "ding!", and Johnathan fought the urge to race forward. It was about goddamn time! It had been fifteen whole minutes since the security guy had called upstairs; what the hell had taken so long?

There was a short patter of footsteps, and there she was, striding through the charcoal metal detectors like nothing was wrong. God, she looked so pretty in that purple blouse. "Johnathan," Alice sighed. Her face was a mixture of relief and annoyance.

And a hello to you too, hon, he thought. Everything was wrong, all of it. She was supposed to come running to greet him, or something like that straight out of a chick flick. He'd get a hug and a kiss, and everything would be alright again. He would even convince her to leave this corporate mansion, and together they would go find Lydia. That's how he'd imagined this meeting to go at its very best. How was it going so badly already?

Well, it probably didn't help that he was almost too drunk to even steady himself against the desk. Yes, that was probably the big problem here. Damn that Last Round and their Three for Three special. Hell, the only reason he had left so early was because that pale Mexican looking dude and his bearded biker friend (also pale. Really weird for Californian boys...) had sidled up to him at the bar long enough for this blond teen to want to get the hell out of there. But back to the matter at hand, damnit!

Alice was, at the moment, scolding him about his current state. He muttered apologies, tried to keep upright and _find an opening_ in this conversation. How was he supposed to convince Alice of anything if she didn't even let him speak? "Alice, just shut up for a minute!" he finally barked. God, that came out wrong. Let's try again. "Alice," he said again, trying to keep his voice gentle. Her eyes were already frozen, so he tried to counter by putting a hand on her waist. He didn't have much time before she shut him out completely. "Look, I'm sorry, sweetheart, real sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. I've just been... so worried, you know? You haven't called or anything. And Lydia's missing, did you know that?" That got a start out of her. She didn't ask any questions though which was just so weird. Whatever. That would come later.

Still trying to win some sign of favor, Johnathan dipped his head down to give Alice a quick kiss, only to be shoved away angrily. "Damnit, Johnathan, what are you doing here?"

"Look, where's that boss of yours, eh? I wanna talk to him." "Johnathan I don't think that's a-" "It's OK, It'sokay, I just wanna talk. Listen, I think you should come home with me. My flight leaves in like a few days, and I really want you on it. And Lydia too."

The sad, torn look in Alice's eyes was a punch in the gut. No, no he refused to believe that she would turn her back on him like that. They'd been together too long.

Another soft 'ding!' by the elevators. Johnathan ignored it, but Alice suddenly became agitated. "Johnathan, you have to leave _now_, OK? You're drunk, you need to go home and get some rest. I-I'll talk to you later, I promise." Now it was his turn to be agitated. "What are you talking about? I just got here. For God's sake, it's after hours, hon; I doubt you have a meeting or whatever to run to." she was panicked now. "No, Johnathan, it's not that, its-"

"What seems to be keeping you, Ms. Alice?"

Ah.

Slowly Johnathan turned around. There he was, all dark Armani suit and perfectly groomed features. The militant Mr. LaCroix, followed closely by his faithful bodyguard who immediately directed for the security guy to leave. The fat man hurried out as if his job depended on it.

Ice blue met summer sky as their eyes locked, each seeking dominance over the other. Oh _hell_ no... "Look, buddy, we're almost done here, alright? And you know what, I think we're leaving too." a single fair eyebrow twitched upwards as if in amusement. "Is that so, Mr. Bane?" LaCroix said quietly.

Something weird happened then. Johnathan couldn't think of what it was exactly, but it was if the very words the man in front of him was speaking held some terrible, unfathomable threat. His confidence wavered; he needed to get out, run like hell out of those doors before... before...

"Please, sir!" Alice's plaintive cry cut through the tension like a knife, consequently snapping Johnathan out of his inexplicable, deep-seated panic. "He's drunk, sir, very drunk. I was about to make him leave, if you'll just give me a..." The look that LaCroix was giving her could have peeled paint off a car. And that's when it happened: Johnathan snapped. Lydia going missing, his parents nagging at him to come home, and worst of all the waiting, the agonizing feeling of sitting around hoping that finally Alice would call him...

Without thinking, almost blindly, Johnathan hit Sebastian LaCroix square in the mouth.

The next seconds were full of of movement. Alice gave a sort of strangled yelp, the bodyguard lurched in his direction, and LaCroix staggered back a few steps. Most prominent of all though, was the unmistakeable sight and sound of a single white, perfectly curved canine tooth bouncing across the dark granite to come to a stop just before the doors.

Johnathan heard a faint roaring in his ears as his world crashed down around him.  
_

Sebastian wiped his mouth and steadied himself on his feet, though his instinctive reaction was to reach forward and snap the boy's neck. He wanted to rip that child's throat out for _daring_ to touch him. But no, one must never give in to such unseemly inclinations, and to do so in front of the girl would be disastrous, perhaps even worse so than if he had executed her friend a week or so ago. Damn her, she managed to complicate everything by her mere presence! So, instead of dealing the drunkard a most satisfying death (he could smell the alcohol from here!), he took a mental step back from his fury, motioned for his Sheriff to stay where he was, and prepared to wipe the boy's mind.

The boy was babbling almost incoherently as Sebastian stepped forward. "Oh my, oh my God, holy shit... Alice, honey we gotta get out of here. Come on..." "And why is that, Mr. Bane? What's the rush?" His voice changed to a low purr, almost inviting, if not for the clear warning it held. He didn't mind. He needed the youth's attention, needed but a brief moment of eye contact...

"Come _on_, Alice, what are you waiting for?" he was tugging at the girl's arm now, who, to her credit, stood her ground. Good. That meant she had learned her lesson from earlier this morning. The Old Soul snarled. "Stop it, Johnathan!" she seemed to catch her boyfriend off guard. "There's nothing wrong, alright? Just go away. Go away and never come back. You're rui-" Was the boy's voice breaking? Was he really about to cry? Good heavens...

"It's like that Bach guy said!"

In an instant Sebastian crossed the remaining space between the couple, and with little effort wrenched the boy around to face him. Eyes locked, and the fight was over for poor Johnathan Bane. "What did you just say?" the Elder bared his teeth in his agitation. That didn't matter right now; his top priority was answers. "What do you know about who I am, and who gave you this information?" The boy-child's face slackened, and his monotone report confirmed his suspicions. "I was mad about you and Alice, so I went to the hotel bar for a drink. This man, some German guy, sat down beside me, started asking me about my problems. I mentioned your name, and then he started going off on a tangent. He said that... that you are an ancient, evil vampire, and that you were going to make her your bride." Out of the corner of his eye Sebastian noted the Old Soul's face wrinkle in what was possibly embarrassment. He himself had to stifle a near involuntary snort: What foolish Hollywood rubbish was the old hunter trying to sell to this boy? "I didn't believe him of course, until... But when I said so at the time, he stormed out, saying that I would be running back to him, Grunfeld Bach, when I found out the truth."

And there it was: the clear cut opening that would allow the frustrated Prince to send this nuisance safely out of his way. 'Safely' of course, was only a relative term here. Prince LaCroix's voice once again rose into the irrefutable tones of a Domination. "Mr. Bane, once you leave my Tower, you will seek out Grunfeld Bach. Once you find him, you will give him this message: 'Your grandfather and father both were worthy opponents to fall to my hand.' Then you will submit yourself to whatever action Bach deems necessary towards you. Is this clear?"

The boy nodded his head slowly, like a stiff puppet. Finally, Sebastian turned to the Old Soul. "Now say your goodbyes to him, Ms. Alice. You and I have much to discuss and we've wasted enough time already. Good evening, Mr. Bane."  
_

I tried to hold on to my composure with little success. It was almost twelve o'clock at night, and I was standing outside of LaCroix's office door, fighting back involuntary shivers of terror. And rage.

There had been no words from him to me in the elevator. Just a cold, cutting indifference that made me want to both cling to his arm and beg for mercy and cower in the furthest corner at the same time. Of course I tried apologizing, tried to convince him that I had no idea that Johnathan was going to hit him (obviously this was true, but that didn't stop me from needing, absolutely needing to get even a nod of approval from this pale Prince.) Sadly, no dice. He remained remote, and I was left feeling nearly broken.

I was angry at Johnathan. No: I was furious. Just what the hell did he think he was doing coming here, drunk off his ass, _demanding_ that I come see him? And then hitting the Prince like some two year old angry to see his blocks being stolen. It was appalling really, made worse by the fact that I knew Johnathan was better than that. Alright, so he has a worry streak a mile long. And a drinking problem with it a mile deep. That didn't mean that he'd had any right to go off like this. Besides, he was smarter than that. I think.

That being said, I felt awful, and utterly responsible for all of this. If I had only just given him a call, or a message - something! - I might have avoided this. But I didn't, and now because of my... what? Laziness? Neglect? Whatever I had allowed to stop me from contacting Johnathan had resulted in an injured vampire and a brokenhearted boy. I didn't want to leave him standing there, I truly didn't. He certainly deserved better for all his devotion. One could imagine him, standing there alone in lobby, looking after me forlornly, with perhaps wet eyes or even a single tear trickling down one chiseled cheek.

I wish I could explain to him why I couldn't go with him.

And just what did LaCroix mean when he had said, 'submit yourself to whatever action Bach deems necessary towards you'? Clearly he didn't mean anything fortunate to come out of that. At this realization I felt a spark of deep fury within my chest. How dare he try to hurt Johnathan!

Finally my appointed time to meet the Prince arrived (the scene downstairs had eaten up our time to talk, apparently, forcing a few meetings to be pushed back for for this presumably short audience) and I walked through the gilded doors. Stopping in front of his desk while he wiled away at some paperwork, my earlier flicker of anger returned, and the more I tried to shove it back into obscurity, the more it demanded itself to be made known. Suddenly I found myself staring down at LaCroix with a near predatory intensity. If this was so damn important, what was the point in making me wait? Why did he always seem to feel the need to make silly gestures like this to emphasize his position? It occurred to me that constant expressions of power could either be a way to awe the underlings, or a sign of insecurity. The latter was a sign of weakness, I knew, and for the first time I felt the most slight, vague whisper of doubt creep into my overall disposition of this vampire Prince. I shoved that away almost as quickly as it had arrived.

Finally he looked up. His pen clicked sharply against the surface, and I stood straighter as LaCroix leaned back in his chair and touched the tips of his fingers together. "I hope the events in the lobby have not upset you too greatly?" it wasn't really a question, but I nodded anyways and said nothing. Of course it had "upset" me. After another moment he leaned forward, resting forearms and clasped hands on the smooth wood. His tone became surprisingly sympathetic. "Understand, Ms. Alice, that I only did what I had to. Most Kindred in my position would have happily murdered him in front of you, if not in their own defense then for the Masquerade. But I am no such monster. I sent young Johnathan to Bach with a simple message, and then he is free to go." But he wasn't free to go. Did this creature really believe me to be so stupid? No Kindred would let him walk, not after what he had seen and realized before him. I wanted to slap the man in front of me, give him a piece of my mind so that he would think twice before trying to bullshit me like that again. But instead I waited, but not for long.

"This Grunfeld Bach, he is-" "A hunter, yes. And you've obviously had dealings with him for a long time. You sent that message to goad him, maybe make him angry enough to make a stupid mistake. Either way, you want his attention. I don't know why you'd want such a thing, and I don't know why you want Johnathan to take the brunt of his rage (even though he hit you), but obviously you know what you are doing, so I won't question you further on this matter... Sir."

The shocked silence that followed rocked me to my very core. I felt like my insides had become solid ice, while my joints felt like jelly. I thought I would want to take back what I said, but strangely enough, I didn't. It had to be said, like a parent who refuses to be disrespected by their child and yells at them in a grocery store or marketplace. Its an odd analogy, considering the man before me is easily ten times my age, but right then I felt like one of the elderly putting some mouthy youth in their place.

When Sebastian finally spoke, his voice held a terrible calm about it. He didn't have to say it, but his tone was warning me to chose my next response _very_ carefully. "Perhaps, then, you would have preferred the death of your lover?" "No sir, not at all. I simply wanted to let you know that-" "_There was nothing 'simple' in your words or tone,_ Ms. Kepler." His words were thunder: he didn't quite shout, or even raise his voice. The force alone was enough to almost stagger me. My eyes locked with his. "Tell me what you're really thinking, Ms. Alice."

I couldn't tell him the truth. That much I knew: he might never forgive me for being so angry with him. But when I tried to tell him something different, tried to avoid honesty, my throat felt curiously blocked, like a lump of ice in my larynx almost strangling me every time I even tried to voice a single untruthful syllable. So what to do?

Before I was reduced to a gurgling mess, however, his blackberry rang. We broke eye contact as he reached for it, and I nearly sagged in relief as the icy lump disappeared. I tried not to sag with relief as he sharply told the caller that he would call them back, and forced myself to straighten up again as the phone slapped down on the desk. With a heavy sigh he leaned forward, rubbing his temples as he did so. "I do apologize, Ms. Alice. I think we both are somewhat rattled from the events in the lobby." He favored me with a half-smile which I tried to match halfheartedly. His left tooth had yet to grow back. "It's alright, sir, I completely understand. But I was wondering why you wanted to see me?..." "Ah, yes, of course. Well, I was curious about your strange... insights... during your time at the Ocean House. I felt it would be prudent to help myself - and you - understand the reasons behind what happened, so I contacted one of Primogen and explained the situation to him." This certainly piqued my interest.

"He represents a Clan of scholars, the Tremere. They are, in short, described best as blood mages. He has spent years gathering much occult knowledge, and I feel he is the best person to help answer our questions. He does, however, like the rest of his clan, enjoy using cryptic words and riddles to portray themselves as "mysterious" and possibly all-knowing. True, his kind have proven formidable in both their knowledge and power, but believe me when I say that while you should never ignore them, always take their words with a healthy dose of skepticism."

I nodded. Taking it all in, as usual. I too wanted answers. Needed answers. Last night had cracked open something at the back of my more shadowy mental corners. That place is so important, and I needed to know _why_.

"When will I see him, sir?" "If all goes well, then perhaps next-"

There was a light tap on the door. LaCroix scowled, obviously hating to be interrupted. "Excuse me. _Come_." he called, voice sharp with irritation. The double doors swung open. A sweeping red trench coat swirled around the newcomer, the lights shining off of his pale bald head. From behind circular glasses, amber eyes seemed to glow with a startling intensity. "Good evening, my Prince, I humbly apologize for the intrusion. Is this her?" LaCroix stared back, face muscles tight with near obvious rage. "Yes, it is. Ms. Alice, may I introduce you to Maximillian Strauss?"  
_

There was only so much dodging a vampire could _do_, you know?

Another near miss of steel claws by her head, and Lydia soon found herself thinking along these lines. Fucking Jeanette, how could she not tell her that these painting were cursed? Alright, maybe she should have taken the hint when the goddamn pictures were healing themselves, but still! And damnit, it had taken her an age to find the right order to cut them in, but instead of giving herself a pat on the back for ruining precious artwork, she found herself face to face with some sort of blood monster sporting a fetching set of claws.

Another near miss, and finally the Fledgling had enough. Rolling out from her desperate dive, she grabbed the knife from where she had dropped it at the beginning of that creatures bloody birth, Lydia moved to circle the creature. Nothing else mattered, she thought, other than getting a good shot in. She had to weaken it somehow, slow it down. It just moved so damn fast...

At last, an opening! Lydia struck, quick as a snake. The blade cut through the constant waterfall of blood coating the creature. It shrieked, reeling back a bit, but to her dismay recovered quickly. There was just no hurting this thing!

But wait! She could use her Disciplines! She'd almost forgot about that... alright, quick, think! Potence!

Without really looking Lydia struck out and connected with something, and felt it fly away from her to crash into a display. Studying her handiwork, Lydia noted the crushed display with satisfaction, until whatever it was she hit decided to get up again. Bracing herself, she swung a claw at the liquid crimson blur, and hit air. At the same time a sharp pain flared up on her side. Clutching and looking, Lydia saw three red lines leaking gore all over the hardwood. With a groan, she made herself turn around. She would have to deal with the shredded flesh later. The monster looked somehow triumphant. The next instant Lydia found herself flying through the air to land hard on the metal desk, knocking the unnecessary wind from her lungs.

The monster made as if to leap at her, readying it's claws for kill. Neither party expected however that a shotgun blast would blow out from the alley doorway and into the startled creature. A second shot made it squeal in rage and pain. A third brought it to it's knees.

As if knowing it's time was short, the creature gave a last howl of defiance, bunched up it's legs, and sprang with open claws in Lydia's direction. A fourth and final thunderous shot disintegrated it mid-air. For a split second, all Lydia could do was lay there, groaning with relief and pain.

"Wake up, sleep dead!" called a soft girlish voice. With an effort, Lydia raised her head and just about spat out something pithy when she saw who was talking to her.

Joelle was back, looking smug, and beside him stood a girl wearing skintight leather and a still-smoking shotgun. "The White Daughter awaits you!" "Who the hell are you?" "No time, Lady, just go!"  
_

**morgan145: Wow... just, wow... Guys, I do apologize for my ridiculously long delay. Unfortunately, a college degree wreaks havoc on my free time, and for the last many months I've been drowning under a wave of homework. Sadly, the next chapter won't be coming soon either, but I PROMISE it won't take nearly as long as this one! Swear to God! ^^;**

**Anywho: Sorry for the sudden end of the chapter. I honestly just didn't know what else to add to it and not let it be too much. Oh well, makes for a great cliffhanger, am I right? Right?**

**Whoot! Johnathan finally on the path to his own subplot. Now, why does Alice and Sebastian think he'll get hurt by Bach? Because that guy is obviously unstable, that's why.**

**Poor Lydia. Just want's to get her work done, but stupid Jyhad just has to ruin everything! Much faster advancing of her plot in the next chapter though, so please don't worry, it'll pick up in that area soon!**

**Aaaaaand dear Mr. Strauss has finally been truly let into the story. My God has this intro been sitting on my PC for a while, and my is it ever satisfying to see it in a chapter! Good fun to follow! Mainly with an irate Prince...**

**That's all for now, Folks! Enjoy!**


	20. The Daughters of Janus

Streetlights flickered across the windshield. They gave the interior of the 50's style cab a strange staccato light, briefly illuminating the blond boy's face as he stared out the window. Johnathan had been fighting back tears since Venture Tower, his heart broken somewhere deep within his chest. Alice...

Something else bothered him though, something that wiggled incessantly at the back of his blurry mind. Alice... there was just something really _off_ about her...

Alice was usually a laid back individual, or at least out loud she was. She rarely ever showed signs of extreme emotion, and he could certainly recall many times where most had been in a panic over some mundane thing or another, while Alice had been still, like the eye of a storm. Some would almost call it eerie, but Johnathan had always enjoyed that strange quality about her, that almost sage-like calm that balanced out his admittedly reactive emotions. But here is where it got weird.

Her entire family was murdered barely a week and half ago in front of her. And yet, when Alice walked through the metal detectors, her posture was upright and confident and her voice didn't have a single wobble in it. No one gets over something like that so fast. It was like... like it never happened. As if her parents never mattered a thing to her... as if her little brother had never meant of thing. Really, it was downright spooky how she acted.

Unless that, that... (damnit,) vampire had something to do with it. God, he didn't want to even think about what happened in the lobby. Holy Christ, vampires are _real_...

He was still trying to fight the ridiculous compulsion to seek out this Bach unsuccessfully for the past few hours, but that terrible driving need refused to leave his gut. He had to find him, and soon. Somehow.

"We're here..." said the cabbie. His sunglasses filled the rear view mirror as he looked at his passenger. Johnathan nodded in thanks, went to pay the cabbie from the remaining cash in his wallet. "Let me give you some advice, young man." Johnathan looked up, his mind still fogged from Last Round shots and his entire world falling apart before his eyes. "When your looking for something, it is sometimes best to go back to the beginning. You never know what you may find." Whatever, the boy mumbled. As the cab drove off into the dark, Johnathan stepped through the double doors of his hotel.

From the shadows across the street, a silent figure watched.  
_

Sebastian did everything he could to keep his composure. He even forced a smile for the girl's sake, who thankfully did not seem to suspect anything was amiss. And nothing was, except the fact that she had just resisted his meanest Discipline and Blood Bond to boot of course. It didn't matter that she was an Old Soul. It didn't matter a wit that she was supposed to have a formidable amount of willpower. The fact that an 18 year old human could resist a Domination of any kind downright spooked this Elder Ventrue. He supposed the only comforting fact about this situation was that she had clearly struggled in the act. He had watched her during those few tense seconds, fighting not to speak as his command attempted to choke her into submission. Perhaps had the phone not rung he might have won in the end, but that was beside the point. _She__ had__ resisted __him__._

When Strauss had entered, Sebastian was almost thankful for the interruption. Almost. He had needed a moment to recover from that particularly nasty shock.

Now, however, he felt that sting of indignation as Strauss had all but flounced in, bold as you please, into _his_ office, and he was forced back into the moment. "Regent, would you be so kind as to explain why you are here in my office tonight? I thought we had agreed to meet on Thursday to have a proper introduction." A flicker doubt crossed the Old Soul's eyes when she looked at the wizard, which evoked a shred of comfort from him. It perhaps signified a kind of trust, which was good to see after their recent row.

"I apologize for my rude interruption. I will need to postpone our original appointment due to an emergency within my Chantry." Which would have only required a simple phone call to either his secretary or Seneschal. No doubt he was here for the girl, but why?  
_

"You!"  
"What-?"  
"What were you thinking?"  
"I don't-"  
"The museum, you dolt! That was my event! Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

Lydia wanted nothing more than to backpedal out through the office door behind her as Therese shrieked from across the room. "I-I didn't know, I swear to God I didn't! It was your sister, she-" "Of course, who else? But you know what, Fledgeling? I honestly thought that you wouldn't fall for Jeanette's influence, but like all the others you've fallen to that whore's siren song!" "Look, Ms. Voerman, I'm sorry, I really am..." Lydia racked her brain for something, anything that could get her out of this. "See? I got your 'item of the spirits' thingy for you. Here, take it." Yanking the locket out of her jeans, she just about flung the thing at the irate vampiress, but only just checked herself. At the sight of the trinket, Therese seemed to relax a touch until she started speaking again.

"This doesn't change anything, Fledgeling, but lets say that I decide to believe you, your word against my sister's. What then?" Lydia never thought so fast in her life. What could she do, what could she do? There had to be some way to get out of this! "Well, um, since I've completed our bargain, you could maybe call off the blood feud with Bertram Tung? I really, really need to see-" "Then the last thing I need you to do is go fetch my sister."The Fledgeling stared, unwilling to believe what she just heard. "What? What the hell do you mean, go get your sister? I got the stupid fucking amulet for you - this wasn't our bargain!"

Cold, implacable eyes glared at her from across the room, and Lydia had to swallow back a wave of bitterness: there would be no sympathy or yielding here. Not from people like Therese, who don't give a damn about the Nosferatu's problems. She was going to be shoved around like a pawn, whether she liked it or not. She would do what Therese wanted, because that was the only way she was going to get where she wanted to go, and Therese knew it. Lydia swallowed back a tide of bitterness. It scraped against every last of her nerves, but after a moment she managed to spit out, "What would you have me do, exactly?"  
_

"Ms. Kepler," Strauss was saying to me, "It is good to meet you," at last, I finished mentally. That's what it sounded like. The bald and pale man scrutinized me from behind circular glasses, his yellow eyes penetrating into my own. It was different from LaCroix's icy stare, more piercing somehow. I did my best to maintain eye contact; I refused to look weak in front of the Prince, though I didn't know why that even occurred to me. "Your employer was most concerned about what had happened to you during your ordeal. I understand that you experienced many strange, perhaps frightening and confusing moments during your... adventure in the Ocean House." I nodded, feeling mildly annoyed. It was a homicidal haunted house: there is no "perhaps" about it being frightening. Why does everyone seem treat me like a delicate child lately?

"Yes, sir." "Could you please elaborate for me? I am most interested in the parts where you apparently felt a sense of deja vu, or a strange and inexplicable urge to do something. What do you remember thinking or feeling, and when?" Almost unconsciously I found myself glancing at LaCroix as if for approval. "Go ahead, Ms. Kepler, but please make it quick, as you and I have other things to do this evening." With a nod, I turned to Strauss and attempted to explain.

"From the moment I entered the House I felt a powerful sense of deja vu, as you said. I knew the place inside and out sir, there's just no better way to describe it. Everything, from the top of the house, to the front foyer all the way down to the depths of the boiler room. I knew it, and yet, I didn't." A sudden lump formed in my throat when I spoke next. "I also knew what happened there, or at least, I did when I went to the places where... where..." I was almost choking now; tears leaked down my face, stinging and distorting my vision as something hot and painful twisted inside my chest. I felt ashamed, woefully full of self hate as vague thoughts moved in the back of my mind. I struggled to keep focused as I accidentally prodded a door in my psyche I didn't even know was there. For a moment I stopped, attempting to gather myself in this utterly random tidal wave of grief came out of nowhere. And I would have succeeded if Strauss had not said, "What people, Ms. Kepler?" Somewhere else inside I could feel something panicked and insistent prodding me, but at the moment I didn't care. "I killed them!" I finally blurted out, then sank to my knees weeping.  
_

Sebastian watched as tears leaked down the girls face. For a moment he found himself fascinated as she unraveled under memories and emotions she probably wasn't even entirely remembering. It was when she finally sunk to her knees that he decided that perhaps enough was enough and he moved to assist her. Strauss did nothing; indeed he seemed to be dumbstruck by what was happening before him. It was only when Sebastian stood beside her shaking form that the wizard seemed to snap out of his stupor, but it was too late for him. LaCroix was already kneeling beside the girl, pulling out a handkerchief and gently dabbing at the girl's cheeks like a proper beneficial guardian, leaving Strauss to stand almost awkwardly over them.

To his credit, the Regent was the first to speak some consoling words. "It's alright, young one, truly. I apologize if my interview has upset you, you do not have to speak anymore right now if you do not wish. If it makes you feel any better, you've given me more than enough to narrow down the possibilities." "Yes, it is too bad. I think it would be best if you go to your room and rest for the evening, don't you agree? Then you and the Regent can meet again on a _later_ date." Strauss stiffened, red leather creaking as shoulders tightened. "Yes, that may be better. Thank you, Miss Kepler, for your story. If I may take my leave?" With a last look at the girl, perhaps with a touch of disappointment, the Tremere Elder squared his shoulders, turned on his heel, and walked swiftly out the double doors.  
_

Go to the diner and talk to my sister, she said. It'll be simple, she said.

Well, five thugs with pistols and a motherfucking shotgun said different.

The second that Lydia had walked into the diner, she should have known. Store owners just don't leave the cash register alone with a bunch of gang bangers and no witnesses. She should know; she'd hung out with enough of them, even helped some of them take the odd few bucks out of the tip jar when no one was looking, and that was in Toronto. And besides all that, they seemed utterly indifferent to her appearance, which should have been her first clue. But she'd just wandered to the back, like the silly girl she was, and barely had enough time to register the faint clicking behind her as metal on metal before the shotgun boomed and her back exploded with pain. Now she was stuck lying behind the bar where she crawled, panicking as she heard footsteps get closer and closer. Her vision was going dim and her back was in agony, but above all else her throat burned.

"We got her, ladies and gentlemen! Holy shit, we're gonna be rich men!" Laughing cruelly, one of them advanced around the corner of the bar where she lay, holding his pistol loosely at his side. "Fuck, this is one's pure nightmare fuel, man. Her teeth are like, jagged and shit. What the fuck happens to someone to make 'em look like this?" Some alarm bell in the back of her head was trying to get her attention, but the only thing that Lydia could think about was just how thirsty she was. The thug stood close to her, his ankle well within reach.  
_

The blood was beyond delicious this time, Lydia noted as she nuzzled the man's throat. The thick, intoxicating liquid squirted as his last heartbeats forced it out through his exposed artery. She could feel the bullet holes in her back closing with a pop, the cracked spine she didn't even know she had mending with small hisses of crushed fluids. She didn't even bother trying to stop as the thug's life faded beside her. Fuck him, he struck first. And besides, this shit just felt too good to give up. She could hear footsteps approaching, but she didn't care. She was too busy enjoying herself...

Without warning she was bodily ripped off the now-still body. Slamming into the tiled wall, Lydia screamed in blind outrage and scrambled to her feet, ready for a fight. Instead, she found herself face to face with Joelle. He was frowning at her in a confused sort of fashion. "I could have sworn I saw a predator in here... Do you know where she went?" Lydia glared at the vampire, knowing full well this was a dig against her fighting ability. "I had it all under control, all right? The guy just got the jump on me, that's all." She knew full well she hadn't have shit under control, but goddamn if she was going to admit it to this guy of all people. It was then that she noticed the rest of diner. And what was left of the thugs. When the hell had that happened? A bolt of pure frustration pulsed in her chest. This was the second time Joelle had to save her dead ass, and it irked her that she almost died again, two times in one night.

"Do you require a helping hand? Crossing the street may prove too dangerous for the Jester's little not-Childe." "Shut up, would you? I can do it myself." The Asylum was just across the street; Lydia wondered if Joelle ought to be in one right now. Chuckling darkly at her own terrible joke, Lydia strode past him and out the door, forming Obfuscate around her as she left.  
_

If LaCroix hadn't been steering me, I was sure I would have walked into more than one wall on the way back to my room. Not that I would have cared: shame, pain, and rage made it impossible to focus on my surroundings, let alone stop sobbing long enough to seen where I was going. I felt ashamed because I had broken down in front of the Prince and his guest; rage that I directed at myself for some awful deed I couldn't even remember, but guess at; pain for losing... everything. I couldn't explain it. It was more than losing my family, more than hurting my friends. Something loomed at the back of my mind, and I was terrified to face it.

I had to go back the Ocean House. I don't care how long it takes, but I would win LaCroix's trust back, and go find answers of my own.

After the Prince dropped me off at my room, I lay awake on my bed for hours, pondering my mysteries.  
_

"Well, Therese, your hitmen didn't kill me, so I guess now's the time for some goddamn answers-"

The woman that looked at Lydia from in front of the giant painting scared the shit out of her. It was Therese... and Jeanette. It was like their heads had been seamlessly merged: The right side side was the mostly makeup-less face of Therese, her usually professional bob a mess ratty mess. The left, Jeanette's unmistakeable painted face and a single pig tail. The woman held a pistol, and was wildly waving it about before she noticed Lydia. Something wiggled in the back of Lydia's mind, something from psych class about the functions of the sides of the brain, but she shoved that away.

"You! Excellent, you made it back. Help me! My sister tried to have you killed. Now we can deal with her together." The woman spoke in Therese's voice. "Ummm, wha-" "She's crazy!" screeched Jeanette's voice. "Help me, and I'll help you find Bertram, I swear!" "Shut up, Janeatte! No one wants to hear your filthy lies anymore. To think I tried to take care of you, and this is how you repay me?" "Uh, ladies?..." "Taken care of me? All you've done is smother me!" "Ladies..." "How does it feel now that I've beat you, Therese? Bertram was dancing on my leash. I bet you weren't expecting that, huh?"

Literally no different from home. "OK, that's enough! It's time for you two to just SHUT UP and tell me what the FUCK is going on!" Therese - she knew it was Therese, it was all in the look - glared at her. "Isn't obvious? I'm about to rid the night of this deviant, backstabbing whore!" "You're one to talk, dear sister, or should I say 'Daddies little girl'?" Lydia fought back the urge to probe further into that little tidbit of info. That sort of stuff doesn't matter, she reminded herself. The important thing was diffusing their anger. She knew from experience how siblings happily throw shit around for all to see just so that the most important party would hate on the other, and she would not fall for that.

"Look, you two need to stop fighting." "Why? Don't you want to hear more about Saint Virtue over here?" Jeanette's voice was a dangerous purr. Seriously, this was by far worse than that 'shroom trip a few years back while hanging out with those twins. What was weird was that, now that she was looking at them - er, her - Lydia could clearly see all the signs, all the facial similarities.

One wore makeup, and the other glasses, and yet the two entirely different women shared the same body. God, they must have the weirdest cat fights. She couldn't wait to see what Alice thought about all this.

"Ladies... you really need to learn how to work together." "Like my foolish little sister said, why? Everything that ever goes wrong around here is her fault-" "You flatter me, Therese. Yes, your right: I'm the one who ensures that all hell breaks loose in this town, all the way down to making sure your heels break on the red carpet... Please. Makes me wonder if you were just a teensy bit jealous of Daddy and I." "SHUT UP, Jeanette!"

Lydia shook her head and tried again. "Think about how powerful you two could be, together!" she had to keep calm, had to keep up a confident tone. They wouldn't listen to her otherwise. "Come on: Therese, you're already great at dealing with the surface matters in Santa Monica, right? You wouldn't be a Baron if you weren't. And Jeanette, you have a lot of underground contacts. I bet that when people need to know stuff around here, they come to you, or should. If you guys worked together, no one would be able to oppose you anymore."

Therese snorted. Jeanette rolled her eyes. Lydia was losing them, fast. There was only thing left to try, and it was a hell of a gamble. She took a deep breath. "I think... there has to have been a time where you two got along." She tried to smile. "I have a couple of sisters at home, and they fight a lot too, but I've seen them play together like best friends from time to time. They find a common ground, and that helps them get along for a while. So I would find it hard to believe that you two hate each other completely."

Silence, stretching on for minutes, obviously having hit a nerve. Then finally: "There was a time..." "We didn't have a lot of friends growing up. Our father didn't let us go out much, he said-" "-that we would get hurt. So we stayed inside... and made up our own little world." "...Where we ruled together... those were happier times."

Lydia forced herself not to sigh in relief as the Voermans' voices became more gentle. Now she was on steadier ground. Still standing beside a canyon, but still steady. Just one more push in the right direction... "Do you two really want to kill each other?" More tense silence. Longer than the last.

Jeanette murmured, "No, not really." Therese sighed. "No, I guess I didn't."

Just one more step- "Give me the gun." "Fine, take it. I'd hate to think about what almost happened with it." Hardly daring to believe her luck, the Nosferatu stepped forward and took the pistol. Jeanette spoke as soon as she stepped back, sounding oddly tired. "Bertram's hiding out in an old oil drum down the street. I'll let him know your coming." "Give our regards to the Prince. If you'll excuse us, we have some negotiating to do."  
_

**Morgan145: Tsk, tsk, Lydia. Two ass savings and near Frenzy's in one night. Makes one worry, it does...**

**And yes, I am terribly sorry for taking so long with this chapter. I've been having the most awful writers block about it for the past while, and I refused to just bang it out for the sake of updating more frequently. I'm not sure how long the next one will take, as I am leaving home for a job for the next two months (but I can take the pc. YAY!). But I assure you, the next one is already underway. No way in hell am I going to abandon this now! :3**

**... oh yea, and great big time jump for the next chapter. Prepare yourselves.**


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